


And it’s like a goddamn tragedy (just notice you’re both looking at the sky)

by zimriya



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Porn With Plot, Romantic Comedy, says changmin. he's wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: It’s Heechul-hyung’s fault.He says, “Everyone in Suju has made out with each other.” And, “We had to figure out who was the better kisser.” And then, “Have you two not done that?”“No,” Changmin says.“We don’t need to,” Yunho agrees. “I’m the better kisser in TVXQ, obviously.”Changmin blinks. “I’m sorry what?” he says. “You are not.”





	And it’s like a goddamn tragedy (just notice you’re both looking at the sky)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [this poem](http://lostcap.tumblr.com/post/80840812807/youre-in-love-with-him-and-hes-in-love-with) on tumblr, which Scar made into an [awesome gifset](http://easterlystars.tumblr.com/post/178728352582/easterlystars-but-god-just-notice-youre-both) once upon a time, and which is really the theme song for the Bachelor AU, and I needed to get out of myself in a canon setting somehow as well. 
> 
> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah, the most valued players. All other mistakes are my own. 
> 
> This fic’s theme song is ‘Power Up’ by Red Velvet and I am so sorry.

**And it’s like a goddamn tragedy (just notice you’re both looking at the sky)**

\--

It’s Heechul-hyung’s fault.

He, Siwon-hyung, Donghae-hyung, and Changmin are all over at Yunho’s house watching Yunho and Changmin lie about never having been to each other’s homes--Changmin leans back against Yunho’s couch and smirks at their bald-faced audacity--when Heechul-hyung makes the offhand comment. They’re talking about girls they’ve dated because it’s late and there’s alcohol, and Siwon-hyung says something (Changmin really wishes he’d been paying more attention because then it could properly be Siwon-hyung’s fault) and Heechul-hyung laughs at him, then smirks.

He says, “Well, you’d know all about that, Mr. Best Kisser Siwon Choi.”

Siwon-hyung flushes mostly, but also smiles and shoves playfully at Heechul-hyung’s knee. He and Heechul-hyung are pressed together, since Donghae-hyung monopolized the joining seat in the corner, and Yunho and Changmin claimed the best vantage point for the television. It means Changmin gets a front row seat to Siwon-hyung’s bright red cheeks.

“What?” says Changmin.

“Siwonnie’s the best kisser in Suju,” Heechul-hyung says immediately, ignoring Siwon-hyung’s elbows. “Even though technically he cheated.”

“I did not,” protests Siwon-hyung.

“You did so,” retorts Heechul-hyung. “Money exchanged hands.”

Siwon-hyung turns mournful eyes on Donghae-hyung, who simply snuggles closer to Heechul-hyung with an unapologetic smile. “Oops, Siwon-ah. Sorry.”

Siwon-hyung pouts.

“He totally cheated,” Heechul-hyung says again. “But officially, he’s still the best kisser in the band.”

Changmin blinks some more. “What?” he ends up with finally, for the second time.

“Everyone in Suju has made out with each other,” explains Heechul-hyung at last, going so far as to pet Donghae-hyung’s hair a little as he speaks. “We had to figure out who was the best kisser.” He says this last bit as if it makes perfect, logical sense.

Changmin supposes for Super Junior, it might. “Oh,” he says.

“Because that makes sense,” mutters Yunho, breaking his silence and putting a voice to the thoughts whirring about in Changmin’s head.

He’s going to have words with Kyuhyun about secret keeping, especially with the severe amount of flack his best friend has given him for knowing Yunho’s phone passcode. At least Changmin hasn’t had Yunho’s tongue down his throat--

“Have you two not done that?” Heechul-hyung asks suddenly, eyes narrowed at Yunho overtop Donghae-hyung.

“No,” Changmin says immediately, for some reason blushing even though he’s always been able to handle his alcohol.

“We don’t need to,” Yunho puts in.

“Right,” agrees Changmin instantly, before pausing. “Wait. What--”

“I’m the better kisser in TVXQ,” Yunho says, tone brooking absolutely no argument. “Obviously.”

Changmin will be brooking all the arguments. “I’m sorry, what?” he says, blood rushing in his ears. He ignores the braying laughter from Siwon-hyung, Heechul-hyung, and Donghae-hyung. “You are not.”

Yunho raises an eyebrow and sips beautifully from his beer.  “No, I am,” he says.

Changmin glares at him. “You are not,” he snaps again.

Yunho stares back at him, unfazed. “I am too,” he repeats. “The fans agree.”

Heechul-hyung and Siwon-hyung go off on another rambunctious laughing spree, but Changmin is too busy trying to murder Yunho with his eyes. “Have you been kissing a lot of fans, then?” he says meanly.

“No, but I have done more kissing in dramas than you,” Yunho returns sweetly, setting his beer bottle down on the table in front of their knees. He leaves his hand lose around the neck, like he’s convinced the argument won’t take longer than the need for another sip.

Changmin kind of has to concede the drama point, since it felt like every other episode of _Meloholic_ featured Soojin-noona sticking her tongue down Yunho’s throat, but it’s possible he’s just being mean; Yunho’s had nothing but praise for his _Meloholic_ costars.

“That doesn’t count,” he tells Yunho anyway, still glaring. “That’s like. Circumstantial evidence.”

“Circumstantial evidence,” repeats Yunho.

“Hearsay,” counters Changmin. “By that logic, I’m the better kisser because Hana-noona said so on national television.”

“In 2011,” retorts Yunho, hand all the way off his beer bottle now and almost fully turned around to better stare at Changmin. “ _Meloholic_ was--”

“Last year,” Changmin interjects. “Irrelevant. Are you saying Hana-noona lied? We can call her now.” He finally looks across the couch towards their audience, mostly at Heechul-hyung. “Hyung has her number, right? Hyung has every girl’s number.”

Heechul-hyung squawks out a protest that sounds awfully like the name of Changmin’s ex-bandmate, before Siwon-hyung shoves a hand over his mouth.

Yunho is still glaring at Changmin.

Changmin pulls out his phone, practically daring him. “No?”

“I do have her number, actually--Yoo Hana? Right? Fuck--shut _up_ , Lee Donghae--”

Changmin spares a quick glance towards Heechul-hyung and Donghae-hyung, and finds the latter mid locking-his-mouth mime, fingers of the other hand still practically dancing across his phone’s touchscreen keyboard.

He turns back towards Yunho.

The man scowls at him, before sticking his hand out to lower Changmin’s. “No,” he agrees with Changmin. “That won’t be necessary.”

Changmin pockets his phone. “Right, I thought so,” he says smugly. “Because I’m the better kisser in TVXQ.” He goes to take a sip from Yunho’s beer.

“We’ll settle it the easy way,” Yunho says at the same time. He looks at Heechul-hyung. “Hyung. Kiss me.”

Changmin nearly spits out his mouthful of beer.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Donghae-hyung says, even as Siwon-hyung starts gesturing frantically at him. He’s still looking at his phone, so maybe he can’t see; Siwon-hyung reaches around Heechul-hyung to tap him on the shin. Donghae-hyung doesn’t so much as flinch. “Hyung’s totally not unbiased--”

“Hey,” protests Heechul-hyung, elbowing Siwon-hyung off of Donghae-hyung. “I can be unbiased. Yurobbong. Pucker up.” He closes his eyes and leans in.

Donghae-hyung reaches up and puts a hand on the side of Heechul-hyung’s face. “You totally like Yunho-hyung better than Changminnie, Heechul-hyung,” he says, then smiles apologetically towards Changmin. “Sorry, Changminnie.”

“It’s fine.” Changmin waves a hand.

“Siwon-hyung, then,” says Yunho, still clearly stuck on the idea.

Heechul-hyung is the one protesting now. “Did you hear nothing I said?” he asks. “Siwonnie can be bribed.”

“Hey,” Siwon-hyung says again.

“Sorry,” Donghae-hyung responds again, actually sounding it this time.

“Nobody will be bribing anybody,” Yunho decides finally, raising his voice just slightly so that he sounds less like the happy-to-be-surrounded-by-friends host he’d been all evening, and more like the leader of one of the world’s biggest boy bands. Boy duos? Does it matter? Changmin’s just drunk enough to wonder, it seems.

He turns towards Yunho so quickly he almost gets dizzy. “Why, were you thinking I’d need to?” he asks. “You’re the one punching above your weight class… Hyung.”

Heechul-hyung and Siwon-hyung make simultaneous ‘oooh’-ing noises, and Donghae-hyung divorces from his phone long enough to hand Yunho his own beer. “For the burn,” he says. “It’s still cold.”

Yunho shoves the thing back at him, scowling. He keeps meeting Changmin’s eyes. “Changmin-ah.” His voice goes the way it does on stage; how it used to go when Yunho was trying to convince Changmin to hold the microphone in 2011. “Kiss me.”

Changmin’s stomach does an unfortunate flip flop. “Why?” he manages. “Are you worried that if you kiss me, you’ll lose?” That really doesn’t make any sense, but Changmin’s sticking with it anyway.

Yunho smiles at him, but it’s definitely more of a smirk. “If I kiss you, you won’t even stand a chance, Changdol-ah.” His voice is more of a purr than a voice, at this point.

Changmin feels so much like a dog, because the rumble of Yunho’s words makes his hackles rise. Or-- Yeah, his… hackles. “Is that so?”

“Yep.” Yunho drags the vowel out. “But don’t worry about it, Changdol. If you’re not serious about it you can just quit now.”

Changmin is off the couch and standing, glaring down at Yunho before he can stop himself, blood roaring in his ears and hands clenched into fists. “That’s not funny, Yunho-hyung,” he growls.

Yunho tilts his head back and has the audacity to pat his lap. “No?” he says sweetly. “You certainly seemed to think it was funny when you were mentioning it every other interview.”

“That was 2011,” Changmin says through gritted teeth. “I was a mess.”

“You were a different person because 2011 was so long ago,” says Yunho, grinning, because he’s gotten the conversation right back to where he wanted it. “And it was when Yoo Hana said you were a good kisser. Well?”

“I’m going to shave your eyebrows in your fucking sleep,” snarls Changmin, before bending--if anyone is going to be climbing into anybody’s lap first it’ll be Yunho; Changmin does not make the rules--and putting a palm on the couch between Yunho and Donghae-hyung. The other ends up hovering around Yunho’s neck, not sure if it wants to grab him by the stupid face, or hold him by the stupid neck.

“What’s the matter, Changdollie, scared?” breathes Yunho.

Changmin lowers his gaze to Yunho’s unfairly perfect cupid’s bow mouth. “No, are you?” he replies, and kisses him.

It is, unfortunately, one of the better first kisses of Changmin’s life. Yunho tastes like beer and fruit and the remnants of whatever lip tint they had him wearing while he played at pretend kindergarten teacher. He tastes like fresh sunshine and the crunch of autumn leaves and the first snowfall, or something, because Changmin feels like he’s aged three seasons in the time it takes for Yunho to put both hands on Changmin’s face and kiss him back properly.

Yunho anchors his thumbs on the hinge of Changmin’s jaw, fingertips teasing the skin behind Changmin’s ears. He sighs, tilts his head, and Changmin thinks: tongue kissing is objectively better than close mouthed kissing before he can stop himself.

He darts his tongue along the seam of Yunho’s lips.

That’s a mistake.

Yunho licks into Changmin’s mouth like he does with anything when he’s trying to prove himself: clumsily and sloppily yet somehow still perfectly and with just enough honesty that Changmin stumbles, pitching forward because he’s gone off balance, really, that’s all.

Yunho lets go of Changmin’s face to steady him, probably, and then it’s just easier to melt down onto him, to plant both knees on the couch and let Yunho puts his hands all over the swell of Changmin’s back and sides.

Changmin really needs to breathe.

He should probably open his eyes.

He will, once Yunho stops sucking on his tongue.

Once Yunho stops creeping searing palms up the back of Changmin’s shirt.

Changmin will open his eyes when Yunho does that, because Yunho really needs to breathe, also, and clearly isn’t pulling away because Changmin’s an amazing kisser… or… something.

They separate suddenly and both of their chests are heaving.

Changmin knows because he’s got both hands on Yunho, pressed up against the man’s nipples through the thin material of his t-shirt. He ditched the button down when they both got to his house, even though it’s March, and it’s too cold for undershirts. Yunho’s place is always freezing, even when he has guests over, leftover from the days when he was living to the extremes of what little luxury TVXQ could afford because every other day was one where he could end up back on the streets, and money spent on heating might be better spent on food.

His nipples are perked up from the cold.

Changmin presses down against the heave of them once, throat suddenly a little clogged. Then he opens his eyes.

Yunho is staring back at him with something precious and too good for alcohol-induced competition swimming in his eyes. When he sees Changmin is looking back at him, that expression disappears into smug arrogance. His hands settle onto Changmin’s ass. His lips quirk.

Changmin doesn’t knee him in the balls. “You tripped me,” he tells Yunho’s nose. “And also, you weren’t all that.”

“Mmm.” Yunho doesn’t sound convinced.

Changmin wouldn’t be convinced, especially since he’s still straddling his bandmate’s lap. “Shut up,” he says. It’s just the alcohol catching up with him. They had like three full shots at the _72 Hours_ filming, and then three more when Siwon-hyung and Heechul-hyung and Donghae-hyung came over to watch _I Live Alone_. Changmin is justified in being a little weak-kneed.

“Why are you still in my lap then?” Yunho asks.

Donghae-hyung and Heechul-hyung finally seep back into Changmin’s awareness by way of obnoxious cackling.

Siwon-hyung is silent and somehow disapproving.

“You shouldn’t have said anything,” Heechul-hyung is telling Donghae-hyung. “I want to kiss Yurobbong. He looks amazing.”

Yunho smirks.

Changmin sits more firmly across Yunho’s thighs, settling directly atop his dick with a growl.

Heechul-hyung and Donghae-hyung filter back into background noise.

“I am still in your lap,” says Changmin with great dignity, trying to shove most of his tailbone directly onto Yunho’s ballsack. “Because your hands are on my ass.”

Almost like he hadn’t noticed, Yunho’s fingers tap up against the back pockets of Changmin’s jeans.

“Hyung,” Changmin says. He sounds like he pre-gamed three shots for the cameras at _72 Hours_ filming and nothing more. “That was not a request for more--”

Yunho’s grip tightens so quickly that Changmin thinks everyone would have missed it, but since Yunho does it when Changmin’s mid-sentence, everyone is aware when Changmin’s voice breaks horribly in the middle of that sentence on some breathy, awful gasp.

Heechul-hyung cranes a look around Donghae-hyung. “Yurobbong,” he says. “Stop groping Changminnie’s ass and actually be a good hostess.”

“Host,” Siwon-hyung mutters.

“Whatever.” Heechul-hyung isn’t bothered. “Your show is over.”

Changmin glances over his shoulder to find that MBC is no longer airing _I Live Alone_.

“Be a host,” Heechul-hyung finishes. “Your guests need seeing to.”

Yunho finally releases his grip on Changmin’s ass and turns towards his friend. “What do you need, Hyung?”

“My own turn--”

“Yah--”

“Well, if you won’t kiss me, than Siwon-ah--”

“No--”

“Donghae-yah--”

“No--”

Changmin lets himself sink to the side out of Yunho’s lap to rest into the crease of the arm rest and the seat back. His left leg ends up still mostly in Yunho’s lap, but he’s suddenly exhausted and masking yawns behind both hands.

Yunho shoots a look back towards him, before settling a hand loosely around the skin of Changmin’s bare ankle bone. “You really should go home,” he says. “It’s late.”

Heechul-hyung stops tormenting Donghae-hyung and glances once towards Changmin, then eyes Yunho’s hand on Changmin’s ankle.

Changmin pulls free and settles into a seated position, knees bent so that he can put both feet on the couch between him and Yunho, and shoulders hunching to accommodate the lack of space.

“Sure,” Heechul-hyung says pleasantly. “After Changmin tells us who’s the better kisser in TVXQ.”

He looks pointedly towards the front of Changmin’s jeans, even though Changmin’s got his knees guarded in front of himself and is just drunk enough to avoid embarrassing, teenage, only-from-kissing erections. Because of his bandmate. On some dumb dare.

Heechul-hyung smirks. “Well?”

Changmin wants to lock the man on Yunho’s back porch and leave him there to freeze through the night. He probably wouldn’t die. They could thaw him come morning and have him be perfectly fine for whatever promotions Suju needed him for.

He bares his teeth. “Yunho-hyung.” He says it mostly because he knows if he says anything else, Heechul-hyung just won’t leave. But also, the falter to the older man’s expression is incredibly satisfying. Heechul-hyung is no doubt not used to people giving in to him so easily. Certainly not Changmin, at least.

Heechul-hyung’s brows pull into a furrow. “Huh,” he says. “That was too easy.”

“If I kiss you to prove he’s not lying, will you leave?” says Yunho. He finally sounds a tad annoyed.

Changmin almost shakes, caught up in the ghost of that growl up against his mouth. He doesn’t do that, though, because he’s an adult. And it was just a kiss. So Yunho can kiss. So what? They’re all more than a little drunk anyway, and only Yunho downed two water bottles in the car on their way home from _72 Hours_ filming. He’s probably just more sober than Changmin, and therefore more capable of performing to full standards. That Changmin’s knees feel a little weak means nothing.

It doesn’t count.

Yunho’s not the better kisser.

Yunho’s just… sober.

Yunho and Heechul-hyung appear to have come to some sort of agreement, and it doesn’t involve anyone else sucking face. The three members of Super Junior get to their feet with various groans and stretches, hug Yunho, wave towards Changmin, and file in a line off towards the door.

“You didn’t drink,” Heechul-hyung says just before it closes. “Shut up and drive, Donghae-yah.”

The door shuts on Donghae-hyung’s response, and Changmin listens to the shuffle of their feet down the hallway.

He flicks his gaze towards Yunho’s television.

Yunho turns it off.

Pleased, Changmin stretches out both legs. “I’m not leaving,” he tells the room at large. “I’m going to see if your couch is really worth all the times you’ve supposedly slept on it.”

Yunho snorts. “MBC thought it was funny.”

“MBC has no say in your ridiculous sleep habits, Yunho-hyung, don’t lie.”

Yunho grins down at him and turns to head into the kitchen without out disputing that fact.

Changmin listens to him clean up their late night dishes and thinks about how they’re immortalized on his Instagram story. He wonders if the fans will notice, if they’ll become part of the proof that he and Yunho were lying about never having been to each other’s places. They should post a selfie clearly in one of the rooms that was on the show, or something. That would be funny. Youngtak-hyung might finally have his first TVXQ-induced breakdown. Jooyoung-hyung always used to say that was a manager-hyung right of passage.

“Thank you,” he tells Yunho eventually, raising his voice to be heard over the scrub of sponge over dirty dishes. After a pause, he kicks out of his jeans, leaving himself in boxers and the dress shirt and all the exhaustion of three days spent as a entry level chef. As a baby chef, as the captions are no doubt going to call him.

Changmin yawns. Yunho’s couch really is comfortable. All he’s scheduled for tomorrow is a fashion show, and that’s the sort of situation where the fans would accept him being slathered in makeup, and not worry that he’s slacking on skincare or decided to go a night sleeping in makeup and without washing his face.

He shuts his eyes.

He yawns again.

He listens to Yunho scrubbing the stove and counters, now. Maybe it’s weird, that Changmin fancies he knows what different sorts of cleaning sounds like.

“Someone wise told me that if you leave the dirty dishes until the next morning, it just piles up,” Yunho says what feels like hours later. “That someone also always yells at me for not washing my face before bed.”

Changmin opens sleepy eyes and finds Yunho standing over him holding an extra set of pajama bottoms. They’re the red and blue set that they both stole from the ‘Love Line’ MV shooting.

Changmin yawns for the third time. “You should thank that person,” he says.

“Thank you, Changmin,” Yunho replies immediately.

Changmin smiles.

“You really should wash your face, though,” Yunho continues easily. “Stylist-noona might kill you.”

Changmin heaves out a sigh. “You’re right,” he says.

“Fashion week is tomorrow,” finishes Yunho. “Lights, camera, action.”

“That’s movies, Hyung,” Changmin says. “And you’re going too.”

“I’m not falling asleep on my couch,” Yunho says.

“Only because I got here first,” says Changmin.

Yunho’s mouth quirks.

Changmin had that mouth on his, not ten minutes ago. Changmin had his tongue in that mouth. He swallows. “And the--” He breaks off, yawning. “And the--” Another yawn. “The baseball--” Another, longer yawn that ends with Changmin rubbing at the side of his nose and his toes curling a little on the couch cushions. “You have the baseball game in Gwangju, first.”

Yunho sticks out a hand to help haul Changmin to his feet. “Yeah,” he says. He grins. “Thanks for the water.”

Changmin smiles back at him and stands. “Lightweight.” He starts making his way towards Yunho’s guest room.

“Just keep telling yourself it’s level of sobriety that makes me a better kisser than you, Changdollie,” Yunho calls after him. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Changmin gives him the middle finger.

Yunho laughs.

\--

Changmin blames it on the fact that he doesn’t see Yunho pretty much all day on the 24th. They’re both at Fashion Week but they’re at different fashion shows, and Yunho shows up after he’s done throwing the first pitch for the Kia Tigers in Gwangju, after sending Changmin what feels like a hundred photos of his beautifully pregnant sister. They don’t see each other at any of the various after parties because they’re too tired for after parties. In fact Changmin wouldn’t see Yunho on the 24th at all, no more than outside of fan photos and paparazzi shots, if it weren’t for Kyuhyun.

 _So, I hear Yunho-hyung is a better kisser than you_? Kyuhyun says to Changmin sometime in the middle of watching the HERA fashion show, and the moment Changmin is released from his schedules, he tells Youngtak-hyung to take him to Yunho’s place without even a second’s pause.

 _I hate you go die in a fire,_ he tells Kyuhyun pleasantly in the car ride over.

_So that’s a yes then, wow. I’m so sorry, Chwang-ah. At least I’m better at kissing than fucking Donghae-hyung._

Changmin puts his phone in his coat pocket and stares straight ahead the entire rest of the drive.

Yunho isn’t in the foyer when Changmin lets himself in with his key, but he can hear the sounds of the television going as he stands taking off his shoes in the entryway. It sounds like it’s a workout DVD and not the home shopping network, so Changmin is regretting his life choices already.

He toes off his shoes and sets them just inside Yunho’s doorway. “Yunho-hyung!” There’s always a chance it’s not a workout DVD and Yunho’s just jerking off to full HD porn like some sort of deviant, so Changmin likes to announce his presence. “Are you sober?” He… hadn’t wanted to say that last bit, but it’s a solid point, and definitely why he’s here.

Yunho’s head pokes around the corner of the entrance to his living room, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Warning sirens start going on in Changmin’s head, but he keeps moving forward regardless.

“Changdol?” The rest of Yunho peels away from the doorframe to reveal sweat covered, always-a-little soft pectorals, well-on-their-way-to-chocolate abs, and a pair of well fitting sweat pants sitting more than a little low on Yunho’s perfectly proportioned hips. He’s holding a tiny 5 kilo weight in one hand.

Changmin’s first thought is that at least it’s not porn. His second thought is definitely worse. “No,” he says, which thankfully, is neither of those things.

Yunho blinks, then twists to drop the weight down on the table next to his couch, back and shoulders putting on a show because he’d been holding it in his right hand, not his left.

Changmin drifts closer in counter to his words. “No. Go put on the ugliest clothes you own,” he says. “Put on that onesie from like 2012.”

“It’s from 2011,” Yunho says quietly. “And I thought you said you liked it?”

Changmin doesn’t remember much from 2011, but he doubts he’d have said that. The onesie from two thousand and whatever is horrendous, denim, short, with a tie belt that Yunho kept tripping over, and like three buttons that he never wanted to properly do up. Last time he wore it they were working with Lacoste so he had this ridiculous patterned hat--Changmin wanted to die rather than be seen with him--Changmin definitely _had not_ said anything nice about it, or if he did, he _did not_ mean it, even though the thing did show quite a bit of thigh and really did work with Yunho’s proportions--maybe… Changmin did say he liked it?

“You’re right, I’ll just come back when you’re significantly less attractive,” says Changmin quickly, still tragically drifting closer until he’s standing just under Yunho’s door frame making eyes at the man’s nipples. What was he saying again?

“Changdol… what are you even talking about?” tries to ask Yunho.

“So I was thinking about last night when you kissed me, and while I’ll totally admit you won that round, we were both drunk and it was very late and clearly we need to do it again for science,” interjects Changmin in one desperate-sounding rush.

Yunho blinks rapidly up at him.

Changmin just keeps going, addressing the mole he can see on Yunho’s right middle finger (his hand is scratching idly at his left shoulder) because the mole on Yunho’s right middle finger is not the mole above Yunho’s perfectly plush mouth and Changmin is going to lose it if he has to look at Yunho’s perfectly plush mouth, and blurts out, “But right now you’re not wearing a shirt--clearly because you don’t know how to do laundry--so I’ll just come back some other time.”

He doesn’t step away from Yunho. He tragically has to turn his attention away from Yunho’s hand when Yunho stops scratching his shoulder and instead starts looking intently at Changmin’s face. “Changminnie, do you think I’m a good kisser?” Yunho says.

Changmin finally manages to start backing away. “No,” he says.

Yunho starts coming closer. “It sounded like you think I’m a good kisser,” he says as he does so.

Changmin starts shuffling backwards even faster. “You clearly weren’t paying any attention. I’m saying last night was an extenuating circumstance and we need to remedy that in a controlled environment without any outside contributing factors--”

Yunho makes to grab Changmin around the waist and Changmin squawks like he’s been burned, heart jackrabbiting in his chest and biting his lower lip raw in his haste not to sound like he’s being murdered for Yunho’s entire apartment complex to hear.

“This is still an extenuating circumstance, Yunho-hyung, you are not wearing _clothes_!” Changmin shrieks, eyes darting around the hallway looking for viable escape routes. All of Yunho’s rooms have windows and the guest room has a balcony and Changmin could maybe vault over the balcony and not die and not be here.

“Changminnie, I’m wearing pants,” Yunho says gently, but finally stops trying to get into Changmin’s space and starts to back away. He looks a little glum. “Sorry. I can put on a shirt.”

Changmin’s throat bobs with the terrible desire to hug the man, no-shirt bedamned.

“But does that mean you think I’m attractive?” asks Yunho, sounding hopeful. He brightens. “You did say I should put on ugly clothes.”

Changmin takes it back. Yunho is the worst. Changmin doesn’t want to hug him at all. “The entire world thinks you’re attractive,” he says instead. “Don’t let it go to your head. Stay humble, Yunho-hyung. Humbleness is prettier than any good genes.”

Yunho doesn’t seem at all bothered by Changmin’s lack of answer to his question. “You think I’m pretty regardless of whether or not my clothes are ugly,” he concludes. “It would be impossible for you to come back and find me not attractive.”

“That is not humbleness at all,” says Changmin dryly. “That’s like the opposite of humble. I’m going to need to take you to the hospital to get you treated for celebrity disease.”

“Changdol.” Yunho hasn’t even moved, and Changmin still feels like he’s a rat in a maze.

“And that’s not how that works,” Changmin answers that ridiculous assertion finally, throat only slightly clogged. “Your ugly clothes are awful. You could be as hot as me, and even I wouldn’t look good in your ridiculous wrap sandals.”

“I think you’d look gorgeous in my Chelsea sandals,” Yunho says.

Changmin wants to hit him in his unfairly gorgeous face. “Listen, Hyung, I’m trying to help you.” He resumes backing away down Yunho’s hallway towards the door, and Yunho doesn’t try to follow him. “I can’t go around telling people you’re an amazing kisser when the only time you kissed me was when we’re both a little drunk and it was like one in the morning after seventy two hours of filming--”

“If you wanted me to kiss you again, Changmin, you only had to ask.”

Changmin stops backing out of Yunho’s house and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip a few times. “That,” he says. “That. You. You’re missing the point, Yunho-hyung.”

Yunho keeps staring at him with focused, beautiful eyes.

Changmin lets himself finally look at the man’s lips, at the perfect little ‘w’ the top of them make, and the spot of brown their stylists seem constantly at war over whether or not they should leave it in photos. “Fuck, you know what, we can just do it at my place with a bag over your head later, or something.” He crosses down the hall in three looping strides and goes right up to Yunho so that their height difference is all the more apparent and the man’s eyes go a little crossed to keep looking at Changmin.

“I can’t kiss you with a paper bag on my head, Changmin,” Yunho says quietly.

“Then a blindfold,” Changmin replies, then stops when the thought makes his head spin a little.

Yunho’s eyes are knowing, so Changmin turns his attention to Yunho’s mouth instead.

“I guess you’re not a better kisser than me after all, Yunho-hyung,” he says, and Yunho snorts, lifts one gently hesitant hand, and pauses. “Well?” Changmin says, hoping there’s no audible quiver to his voice.

“I was just thinking it should be your turn,” Yunho says immediately, finally no longer fully in control. “I mean. For. If we’re doing this for science.”

“Well technically I kissed you first last time,” Changmin says, fighting the urge to bite his own lips in anticipation.

“Yes, well, I tripped you,” admits Yunho.

Changmin slides a leg between Yunho’s and hooks it around the back of his ankle.

Yunho tips backward, breath hitching, and steadies himself on Changmin’s shoulder with his still lifted hand.

Changmin settles his own onto the small of Yunho’s naked back. It’s still damp from perspiration. That shouldn’t be hot, or anything. Changmin kind of wants to climb out of his skin. “Now we’re even,” he breathes.

“You’re so good at science, Changminnie,” says Yunho, and goes up on his tiptoes to kiss Changmin.  

\--

They end up on Yunho’s couch again. This time Yunho’s in Changmin’s lap, legs splayed on either side of Changmin’s so his thighs bunch and shudder and twitch every time Changmin puts his hands at his waistband. They’re both hard as stone in their respective pants, Yunho more blatantly so because he’s in sweatpants, but Changmin’s too busy losing himself to the swipe of Yunho’s tongue and the tang behind Yunho’s teeth to do more than sink into the couch and make love to Yunho’s mouth.

Twenty minutes in, Changmin says, “Well if you’re shirtless I should be shirtless, too, because that’s just good science.”

Yunho rocks back and helps Changmin work out of his button down, fingers clumsy and tragic and not at all helpful. His teeth keep dipping in and out of the plush of his lower lip whenever Changmin gets distracted and leans up to run his nose along his cheekbones and flutter lashes against his temples. “The best science,” he says.

“The best kisser,” Changmin counters, and hides a smile in Yunho’s mouth when the older man’s eyes flash.

The shirt gets ripped open in two seconds flat so that they can go right back to figuring out who’s the best.

Twenty minutes after that, Changmin’s mouth is sore and his neck is cramped and his cock is throbbing up against the zip of his jeans, but mostly he’s just pleased.

Yunho sits back on his haunches across Changmin’s lap with his chest heaving, eyes glazed, and mouth hanging open. “Fuck. I guess--fine, maybe it’s a tie since I was clearly better yesterday but you’re, um--”

“Amazing,” Changmin says, looking up at him. “Beyond words. The Rising God of the East. The Strongest Changmin--”

Yunho punches him in the soft underbelly, snorting. “The one who needs to go to the hospital to be treated for celebrity disease, more like,” he says eventually. “Braggart.”

Changmin shrugs and puts his arms behind his head.

Yunho’s eyes catch on his collarbones, dart a nervous look into his armpits, then come back to his face.

Changmin’s dick gives a not so friendly twitch in his jeans. He finally winces.

Yunho follows his gaze down and then he’s wincing too. “Ouch, sorry.” He gets up off of Changmin’s legs and stands awkwardly in front of Changmin, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Um. Do you want the first cold shower?”

“Or you could just go in your room and put on really loud music,” Changmin says, and settles a hand down pointedly across his hip bones.

Yunho’s breath stutters, but then he says, with great composure, “Are you going to think of me and my godly kissing prowess?”

“No,” Changmin says sweetly. “I’m going to think of _me_ and my godly kissing prowess.”

Yunho scowls at him. “Gross, Changdol. They have a word for that, and it’s in the DSM.”

“Oh it’s in the DSM--somebody went to University--”

Yunho shoves him across the chest. “Dick,” he says.

“Boob,” Changmin corrects. He makes to take Yunho by the hand. “Dick--”

“Yeah, okay, well, if you get spunk on my couch I’m kicking you out for good.”

Changmin blinks. “Yunho-hyung,” he says, a hand over his heart. “What kind of dongsaeng do you take me for?”

“The worst kind,” Yunho says, not at all bothered. “Text me or something when it’s safe to come out. I’m going to take a cold shower.”

Changmin watches him walk off towards the bedrooms with half lidded eyes. “Okay.” He’s only half-lying. He wonders if Yunho can tell. Yunho’s got such a lovely back, really, Changmin had never let himself enjoy it before, but now that they’re here… doing whatever this is (friends with benefits, maybe? Hopefully? Gosh Changmin would hope so, even though one-uping the world’s most competitive man in some sort of elaborate form of gay chicken sounds _wonderful_ , Changmin hasn’t gotten more than his right hand since enlisting into the military.) he lets himself give Yunho’s shoulder blades the love they deserve.

Yunho’s shoulder blades detour from heading towards his bedroom to heading towards the kitchen so quickly that Changmin has to sit up to blink. “What? Hyung?”

He’s not fast enough to protect himself from the ice pack, freezing and effective and the worst thing Yunho has ever done in his fucking life, when Yunho comes and shoves it straight into Changmin’s dick cackling like, “Sorry, Changdol, but you’re the one who turned down the ice shower!”

Changmin gets to his feet snarling, red in the face and pissed off, and shoving fruitlessly at Yunho in an attempt to get his own form of revenge. “You’re an absolute dickhead, Jung Yunho, honestly!” Changmin says at the top of his lungs. He stops trying to steal the ice pack and settles for just one-touching Yunho right in the crotch.

“Ooof.” Yunho lets go of the ice pack so he can guard himself properly, eyes sparkling.

Changmin shoots him a nasty look, before copping a feel to make sure everything is still good and working. “You, asshole,” he tells Yunho.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow by letting you be the better kisser,” Yunho says happily, no longer safeguarding his dick.

Changmin takes an aborted, fake-step forward.

Yunho’s hands come up and he shifts his weight from foot to foot like some sort of professional athlete.

“We’ll see about that,” Changmin says. “And you’re definitely wearing a paper bag.”

“Deal,” Yunho says, not shaking Changmin’s hand because they’ve known each other since 2002. “Now do you want to watch a movie, or something?”

Changmin sighs. At least _My Sassy Girl_ is guaranteed to put him to sleep. “Sure,” he says.

Yunho smiles.

\--

On the 25th, like clockwork, Yunho shows up at Changmin’s apartment with a brown paper bag. He holds it up into frame right by the security camera, grinning ear to ear, and Changmin buzzes him in with an eye roll.

“Your doorman thinks I’m crazy,” Yunho tells him happily, kicking his shoes into Changmin’s shoe closet. He peels off his jacket, which is long and down and black with a huge fluffy hood.

Changmin takes it from him automatically like the good dongsaeng his parents made him out ot be, and then blinks rapidly a few times as his throat goes dry. “Hyung,” he says, eyes going up and down the slope of Yunho’s body. “It’s March.”

“The end of March,” says Yunho. “And I took a car. And Manager-hyung.”

Changmin is starting to think he’s going to need to give Yunho’s manager a raise. “Hyung,” he says again.

Yunho fingers the top of the cotton shorts he’s got on (dark denim blue to match the button down top he’s got on, so that the whole set looks like a jumpsuit--onesie, Changmin’s traitorous brain points out. You called it a onesie yesterday when your brain to mouth filter stopped functioning) right where it ends across one creamy thigh. “Do you like it?”

“No,” Changmin lies. “Good thinking.”

Yunho’s lips twitch like he knows Changmin’s talking out of his ass, but he sticks both hands in the pockets of the shorts anyway. The bag in his left hand crinkles.

Changmin finishes setting the jacket onto a hanger and into his front closet with a lump in his throat. “That’s not--” he starts. “That’s not the one from 2011--”

“No,” Yunho says easily, shifting on the balls of his socked feet.

Changmin looks at them and thinks it’s good he wore actual winter shoes, not sandals.

“Shilla,” Yunho continues.

Changmin backtracks to the photoshoot in question. “Ah.”

“Jaehee-noona in costuming loves me,” Yunho finishes. “I might have to give it back.”

“Good,” Changmin manages. “It’s appalling.”

Yunho lifts the shorts up his legs using the inside of the pockets. “The fans liked it,” he says shyly.

Changmin strides past him further into his apartment, stopping next to his island countertop, not sure if he wants to do this on his couch with the view, or on his significantly more comfortable bed, also with a view, if he had the curtains open. On the one hand, the couch seems safer, since that’s where he and Yunho have done all of whatever this is before. On the other hand, the bed would be more comfortable. He settles for standing awkwardly beside his island countertop. Yunho can decide.

“The fans were more excited by your head being next to my dick, I think, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says dryly, as he waits.

Yunho grins at him and comes to stand right in front of him still holding the paper bag. “Are you sure that’s not just you, Changdollie?”

Changmin glares at him. “Your head’s not going anywhere near my dick,” he says.

For one horrible second he thinks Yunho’s going to pout, then the man nods. “That’s fair,” he says. “I think blowjobs would skew the results in my favor anyway, since every guy loves having their dick sucked.”

Changmin will concede that point.

“Also I’ve never had any complaints.”

“Right. What?”

Yunho waggles his eyebrows, hands still in the pockets of his makeshift onesie, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “You heard me.”

Changmin narrows his eyes at him. “I think you should put the bag on so we can figure out how we do this,” he says. “You liar.”

Yunho pulls his hands out of his pockets and puts the bag over his head. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” mutters Changmin, allowing himself a quick peruse down the line of Yunho in the sinfully tight shirt and shorts combo. The polka dots really do give him a pajama quality that is doing tragic things to Changmin’s brain.

“Changdol.” Yunho’s voice is a little muffled by the bag. “Stop staring at my dick and use that big brain of yours so that we can settle this once and for all.”

Changmin eyes the bag and wonders if they can Spider-man this shit and thinks they should have just got Yunho a ski mask instead of a paper bag. He says, “Once and for all? If you get two tries I think I get two tries as well, yeah?”

Yunho’s shoulders are kind of unfair in that shirt and shrugging them really doesn’t help.

“Spider-man,” Changmin determines. “I need scissors.”

Yunho pulls the bag off with wide eyes. “Scissors?”

“Just to make it shorter,” explains Changmin. “I don’t think paper is going to peel very sexily.”

Yunho tilts his head to the side. “I thought the entire point of this was to make me as unsexy as possible so as to give you the most unbiased review of my prowess in bed,” he says evenly.

Changmin finds himself repeating most of that sentence back to Yunho under his breath despite himself. When he finishes, he gives himself a quick shake. “Your prowess at kissing,” he corrects. “The question was who was the best kisser.”

Yunho waves a hand. “Fine,” he says. “But I think they’re the same thing, really.”

Changmin snorts. “And that alone lets me know I’m better in bed than you,” he says.

Yunho just lifts one eyebrow but says nothing.

“Anyway.” Changmin crosses the floor to the drawer where he keeps the scissors he uses to cut vegetable leaves and gives them a rinse under the faucet. He wipes them on a towel, then holds the paper bag up to Yunho’s face. He estimates where he thinks he should cut it so that he can avoid the tragic, unsexy, unwrapping of Yunho’s fucking face, and snips. “Try it now.”

The bag covers Yunho’s eyes and ears and part of his nose but leaves his mouth--and his mouth mole--perfectly uncovered. “You should have just blindfolded me,” Yunho says.

Changmin’s breath catches audibly.

“Oh right,” Yunho says. “You liked that idea.”

“You’re hearing things,” Changmin snaps, thankful Yunho can’t see him blushing. “Come here.” He starts to lead Yunho towards his couch, done deciding if he’s doing this on his bed, and now trying to figure out what’s the best positioning. Maybe they should just stand in the center of the room not close to a flat surface, since that way lies someone ending up in someone’s lap and probably cheating?

“It’s like what they say about losing a sense,” Yunho is saying, following Changmin with infinite trust and patience. “That your other ones get better. I think I can hear your heartbeat.” He pauses. “Dung dung dung dung dung--”

“That was our worst song from 2011,” Changmin says, right up against his mouth just to shut him up. “Don’t sing it.”

“Dokkun dokkun?” Yunho tries.

Changmin pinches him in the side.

Yunho hisses. “Ow, Changminnie--negative points for being a dick.”

Changmin smirks.

“Negative negative points for being a tool--”

Changmin puts his hands on Yunho’s shoulders and counts to three.

Yunho falls silent.

Changmin wonders if he’s got his eyes closed behind the paper bag.

He keeps counting past three, works his way close to ten, and breathes deeply to ease his suddenly pounding heart.

“Are you trying to regain points for anticipation because it’s working, but you’ve probably got like ten seconds before I start to get annoyed and dock you infinitely--”

Changmin kisses Yunho to shut him up, both because they’re nose to nose, and because that’s what they’re here for.

Yunho makes the most beautiful noise of surprise, but opens his mouth to Changmin immediately, head already tilting to Changmin’s favorite side, and hands instantly going up to tangle in Changmin’s hair exactly the way he likes it.

To his credit, Changmin tries to remember what got him the most reaction the past two times also, beyond accidentally rubbing up against Yunho’s erection. He thumbs down harder on Yunho’s collarbones than he’d meant to and uses his height to his full advantage.

Yunho sways closer on the balls of his feet and continues to give as good as he gets, hands leaving Changmin’s hair to weave down the bumps of Changmin’s spine, and ending up shoved up underneath Changmin’s workout shirt smoothing circles right up against the vertebrae. What is skin? What are tendons? All Changmin has is a spinal column and Jung Yunho’s hands, holding all the bones tight together.

He pulls away from Yunho’s mouth with a groan, already a little out of breath. “I found a flaw,” he says, taking the advantage of Yunho’s horrendous paper bag blindfold to stare down at the flush of his lips.

“Oh?”

“Learning,” Changmin manages, already tired from standing and already discounting his early arguments because if he shoves Yunho down on the couch he can better feel up those lovely thighs of his, so perfectly on display in the short shorts. “Also, this outfit isn’t ugly.”

The corners of Yunho’s mouth go up.

“This outfit is amazing,” Changmin agrees. “But to return to the learning issue.”

Yunho pulls the paper bag off his head and shakes out his hair, bangs a little damp and sticking every which way. He looks Changmin right in the eye.

“Hey,” Changmin protests. “Taking it off ruins the experiment.”

“Close your eyes, then,” Yunho says. “Or put on a ski mask? Didn’t you say Spider-man?”

Changmin’s hands clench in the fabric of Yunho’s shirt.

“Right, you like that idea,” Yunho says, only a little shakily. “And I see what you were saying about the learning thing.”

Changmin would like nothing more than to lean back down for more kisses. It’s been ages, Yunho’s getting really good at scratching all of Changmin’s itches, and he even forgives the man for the ice thing. “Maybe we just need the element of surprise?” he wonders out loud.

Yunho hums, them sits down on Changmin’s couch, looking up at Changmin with wide, expectant eyes. “So surprise me,” he says.

Changmin looks at Yunho’s shirt, bunched where he was holding it along Yunho’s biceps, and no longer lying flat so that it blends seamlessly to Yunho’s shorts. He thinks about getting _his_ shirt off, of finally having the chance to get skin to skin contact with all of Yunho’s glorious, glorious chest.

He goes a little cross-eyed.

“Cute,” Yunho says. “But not surprising.”

Changmin sits directly on his dick with a scowl. “You’re surprising,” he says.

Yunho puts his hands on his Changmin’s hips, just resting there lightly like a reminder.

Changmin’s thighs flex automatically in response, heart rate racketing back up.

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho breathes. “Surprise me.”

Changmin kisses him, eyes shut, and keeps kissing him until he stops trying to talk to him.

“What about--” he says a few moments later, pulling back for air and a moment.

Yunho is glassy eyed and unfocused and rocking his hips up against Changmin’s even though Changmin’s very pointedly managed to keep perched just above his dick to avoid friction--for Yunho, there was nothing to stop Changmin from humping down across Yunho’s perfectly chiseled abdomen like some sort of teenager with poor self-control.

“What about like.” He can’t say it out loud but he takes Yunho by the hand and puts it pointedly on the front of his sweatpants.

Yunho’s mouth goes round.

Changmin’s breath hisses through his teeth because he’s already thinking of ways to one up just handjobs and blowjobs sound amazing right about now, especially since he’s already gotten plenty of firsthand experience with just how talented Yunho’s tongue is.

“That,” Changmin says, rocking his hips forward a little. He releases Yunho’s hand. Yunho keeps it there.

“Isn’t there a saying: if you can’t say it out loud you’re not old enough to be asking for it?”

“Put your hand down my pants and jerk me off, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says immediately. “Or am I better at handjobs than you also?”

“Fuck, Changdol,” Yunho says, and shoves his hand down Changmin’s pants so that he can jerk him off.

Changmin goes pitching forward across his chest and buries his face in the first part of him can find--the collarbones--roughing up the nice cotton blend his shirt is probably made of and probably making it extremely likely that Jaehee-noona from costuming is going to hate Yunho next time they work with Shilla Duty Free.

“Oh,” he says. “Hyung.”

Yunho has to work to get the angle right and growls a little when Changmin does absolutely nothing to help him. He lets go of Changmin’s dick so that he can shove Changmin off of him and then, before Changmin can protest, clamors back down on top of him so that he can put his tongue back in Changmin’s mouth. “This is starting to feel more like me having to prove to you that I’m better than you again, and less like you proving to me that you’re better than me in not extenuating circumstances,” Yunho says.

There are air quotes around ‘extenuating circumstances.’ Air quotes turn out to be mind-melting twists to Yunho’s wrists at the tail end of two strokes, and Changmin never would have thought to add that sort of variation. “Ngh, well, next time,” he says, clawing viciously at Yunho’s shoulder and fucking his hips up for more. “I’ll return the favor.”

“What about now?” Yunho says, thumbing at the slit of Changmin’s cock a bit, and then staying around the head teasingly until Changmin whines at him and leans up to bite him on the mouth. “Now’s good, too.”

“You’re wearing a onesie,” Changmin wails out, and breathes hard against Yunho’s cheek. “It’s impossible. I can’t break it. You’re only borrowing it.”

“These are shorts and a t-shirt, Changdol-ah,” Yunho says, tone fake patronizing, and Changmin throws his head back and groans. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Fuck, Hyung, you’re the idiot,” says Changmin, mindless for it now because there have been like fifteen minutes of next-level foreplay to preface this, with Yunho doing his best to reign supreme kisser by the end of it.

“If you say so, Changminnie,” Yunho says.

Changmin unhooks his hand from Yunho’s shoulder and puts it on the back of Yunho’s head, hard. “Kiss me,” he sighs out. “Or are you not number one?”

Yunho presses the hint of a nail into the slit of Changmin’s cock.

Changmin whines.

“I’m more than just good with my feet, Changdol-ah,” Yunho breathes, eyes gone down to watch Changmin’s cock peek out of the top of his sweatpants, red and weeping already. “I’m good with my hands.”

Changmin lets go of Yunho’s head so that he can try to fumble with the front of Yunho’s shorts, but he’s too uncoordinated and distracted to differentiate between the two extremely similarly colored fabrics. “I know,” he manages, because it’s clear Yunho’s expecting a response. “Mission card.” His head goes back and Yunho finally pulls his sweats down enough so that Changmin’s cock can come bobbing out. “Thirty… two?” Changmin can’t count, can only bite down on his bottom lip and watch as Yunho puts his hands all over him. “P-pencil carving.”

Yunho stops giving Changmin full strokes now and starts rubbing along the ridges of Changmin's dick, dipping around veins and getting lost around the head. “That’s right, Changdol,” he says, voice only a little wrecked.

Changmin resumes his quest to try to get the front of the man’s pants open, and gives up, groaning. “It’s not even a real onesie,” he moans, a little nonsensically, as Yunho finally, _finally_ stops dicking around--get it? Dicking around--and starts jerking Changmin off in earnest now.

“There you are,” Yunho says, and Changmin vows to watch hours of gay porn specifically so that he can reduce the man to fucking tears--he hates him what the fuck what the fuck what the _fuck--_

“Oh, Hyung, Hyung, _Hyung_ ,” Changmin says, and comes.

Yunho puts his hand over top him and somehow manages to keep the couch, the not-onesie, and most of Changmin’s shirt out of the splash zone. Then he puts his hand to his mouth and licks Changmin’s spunk from his fingers.

Changmin groans. His head is spinning a little. “Ten out of ten,” he tries to say. It comes out muffled and he doubts Yunho understands. “We should--” Changmin breaks off with a yawn; he’d had forgotten how tiresome a good orgasm can be, but in such a good way. “We should definitely do that again.”

Yunho puts his hand back on Changmin’s dick like he’s going to clean it, or something, and then keeps holding him like he’d like to make Changmin come again.

Changmin snarls, not at all into that in the slightest, and knocks his hand away so he can stick himself back into his sweatpants. They are ruined down the front, but Changmin’s too tired to get up and deal with it.

“You should change,” he manages finally. When he peels open an eye, he finds Yunho staring back at him with a wistful, pleased smile on his face. “Eight out of ten,” he docks Yunho two points. “For being a useless dick afterwards.”

Yunho’s eye sparkle despite the point reduction.

“And also for wearing the world’s stupidest pants.”

Yunho puts his hands on the front of said stupid pants, does some sort of magic, and then shimmies out of them, leaving him in the baby thin, polka-dotted shirt, tiny boxer briefs, and nothing else in three seconds flat.

Changmin’s throat goes dry.

“I thought that was the point,” Yunho says. He takes off the top too, although that goes slower because he has to undo the buttons. The clothes go onto Changmin’s island counter in a haphazardly folded pile.

Changmin lies on his back and cranes his head around to watch the pull and slide of Yunho’s back muscles, cock already perking up in his sweats.

“Am I going to get clothes to wear or am I supposed to just leave your place naked?” says Yunho.

Changmin snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous, Yunho-hyung,” he says.

He waits a beat.

“You can wear the paper bag. Nobody will know it’s you.”

Yunho balls up the Shilla shirt and throws it at Changmin’s face, rolling his eyes when Changmin just grabs it and inhales it dramatically, like he’d done with the cheese, in 2015.

“You cut like half the face off that, you asshole,” he says. “I have a very distinctive mouth. Everyone will know it’s me.”

“Oops.” Changmin peeks out from underneath the shirt. “I think there’s some of your stuff in the guest room?”

Yunho’s eyes do a weird, slip slide thing, but then he’s back to grinning from ear to ear. “I thought I was missing a few pairs of boxers,” he says.

Changmin sits up and colors despite himself. “They’re your jeans and stuff,” he says. “That you left here, because you don’t know how to do laundry.”

“Changdol, I do laundry all the time,” Yunho says.

“Also, that’s you,” Changmin continues, ignoring him. “You’re the one always wearing _my_ boxers--”

Yunho walks out on him towards the guest room before he can finish the sentence, one hand in the air. “You’re confused. I’m so good at handjobs that you blew out your brain cells.”

Changmin continues blushing but doesn’t follow him. “That doesn’t even make sense, Yunho-hyung!” he calls.

Yunho just keeps walking, unbothered.

On the 26th, after being interviewed for Chinese TV and Dubai TV (by one of the prettier interviewers and one of the prettier camera crews, as Changmin doesn’t hesitate to say, while Yunho sits frozen stiff beside him and fails to let their interviewer translate the questions before answering), they go on _Guerilla Date_ and get shown the photo from the Shilla Photobook where Yunho wears the not-onesie and puts his head on Changmin’s dick.

Changmin does his best not to laugh too hard at Yunho’s frantic, rapidly investigating eyes, and tells their audience seriously, “We caved immediately. We are absolutely slaves to capitalism.”

Then they go make Park Chanyeol cry.

\--

On the 27th, when he should be sleeping because in one day their album is going to be released and they’ll officially start their comeback, Changmin texts Kyuhyun.

_Come over. I need to do research._

Kyuhyun replies immediately. _If this is about Yunho-hyung being a better kisser than you, I can’t help you_.

 _Yah_ , Changmin says.

 _I mean I’d be fine with kissing Yunho-hyung, but there’s no way I’m kissing your ugly mug_.

Changmin feels heat flood his cheeks and has the bizarre urge to excommunicate Kyuhyun from his life.

 _I’m kidding_ , Kyuhyun continues immediately. _I’m on my way. Put on chapstick._

Changmin sputters down at his phone. _NOBODY IS KISSING ANYBODY,_ he sends hurriedly. _ESPECIALLY NOT YUNHO-HYUNG. PAWS OFF._ That’s not weird or anything. That’s not anything Kyuhyun hasn’t said about his own hyungs.

 _Aw, too bad,_ says Kyuhyun. _I heard Yunho-hyung was such a good kisser that you ended up in his lap_.

Changmin decides Kim Heechul and Choi Siwon and Lee Donghae are all the _worst_ members of Super Junior and Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim should let them all go immediately. He debates throwing his phone out the window.

 _It’s okay, I’ll still come over and help you do research, or whatever_ , continues Kyuhyun, unbothered by Changmin’s lack of response. _I don’t see what the big deal is, though. So he’s better at kissing than you. It’s not like he got you off, or anything_.

Changmin has absolutely no words.

His silence lapses from standard to alarming in five seconds flat.

 _Oh wow_ , says Kyuhyun. _Okay, leaving now. I’ll be there in ten._

Changmin puts his head on his knees and breathes.

Kyuhyun arrives to be buzzed into Changmin’s apartment in ten minutes on the dot, probably because of the military.

Changmin buzzes him in and takes his coat, blinking. “Did you go outside?” They live in the same building, which is half the reason Changmin moved in here in the first place, and all the reason he contacted Kyuhyun and not Minho specifically. Of his friends, Minho is by far the more useful when it comes to these sorts of things. Kyuhyun’s likely to suggest Changmin show up to Yunho’s apartment in a trench coat and nothing else.

His friend sets his shoes dramatically into Changmin’s shoes closet. “Yes, but just to stick my face into the cool air to remind myself that I am actually alive, and that my best friend really is engaging in a game of gay chicken with his bandmate.”

“I can’t believe you made out with Teukie-hyung and you never told me,” Changmin spits back at him, nose raised with great dignity into the air. He heads further into his apartment.

“Siwonie wasn’t worth the money, honestly,” Kyuhyun calls after him, clearly unfazed. “One day I’ll get Hyungdeul drunk enough to redo and come out on top.”

Changmin snorts. “Ryeowook is absolutely the best kisser in Super Junior,” he says. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

“But by that logic wouldn’t you be the better kisser in TVXQ?” says Kyuhyun. “And that’s not true… so.” He finally levels with Changmin, standing still in the foyer waggling his eyebrows.

Changmin glares back at him.

“I’m still not kissing you to prove a point,” Kyuhyun says, stepping up the lip into Changmin’s apartment proper. “That way lies orgasms, apparently, and no, Changmin. No.”

Changmin rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he tries to say. “But no kissing Yunho-hyung either. I will kill you in your sleep,” comes out also.

There is a very telling pause.

Kyuhyun mimes note taking. “It’s worse than we thought, Doctor-nim,” he says as he fake writes. “The patient has progressed to irrational jealousy.”

“It’s not irrational if you said it first,” Changmin mutters, unimpressed.

Kyuhyun’s eyes bug out of his head. “Gosh, Changmin. It was a joke! Nobody actually wants to kiss Yunho-hyung. Except you, and you’ve been salivating over the man since 2003!”

“I will kick you out and call Minho instead,” says Changmin.

“Careful, I’ll cry,” says Kyuhyun. “You’ve already made one dongsaeng cry this week. I don’t really think you want to go for a second.”

“Okay first of all, it’s not my fault Chanyeol cried.” Changmin tries not to smirk too hard because he’s actually quite proud of his and Yunho’s success for the Bowling V Live. “And second of all, you’re not my dongsaeng.”

Kyuhyun slaps a hand to his chest. “Shim Chwang. It’s no wonder you’re stuck kissing Yunho-hyung. What person would want to be with you when all you do is remind them of their age?”

Changmin is out of words for Kyuhyun, so he turns and heads into his office, not waiting to see if his friend is following. He settles into one of the two empty chairs he’d set in front of his laptop and wakes up the screen. He’s nervous, which is weird, since Changmin hasn’t been nervous about porn since 2006, honestly, when TVXQ’s variety circuit had him discussing it in great detail.

He listens as Kyuhyun joins him and watches him take in the screen out of the corner of his eye.

Then, Changmin clicks on the first video and winces. He’s not really feeling the macho, white American thing, although he supposes the guys sort of look like Kang Julien, which might just be offensive, but Changmin’s not here for more than technique.

“Changmin-ah.” Kyuhyun doesn’t sound judgmental, but he also doesn’t sound entirely on board.

“Do you think I’m going to have to narrow my search parameters?” asks Changmin, hovering over the search bar with nervous fingers and a misleadingly calm mouse.

Kyuhyun heaves a long sigh, before sitting down in the chair Changmin’s left for him. “Well, what specifically are you interested in?” he says.

“Blowing him,” Changmin says promptly. “I mean, giving him head.” There’s a beat. “I mean giving head _generally_ not… giving Yunho-hyung head specifically. I’m not going to learn about giving Yunho-hyung head specifically from random online porn, that would be ridiculous, Kyuhyun-ah, please.”

Kyuhyun is squinting at him and it’s totally in confusion so Changmin hurries to elaborate.

“This is important, Kyu-ah. My manhood is on the line.”

Kyuhyun stops squinting and blinks. “I mean, ignoring the glaringly obvious joke: Shim Chwang-ah. Does this mean you’re gay, now?”

Changmin takes his hands off his computer and punches him. “Hey,” he says. “Don’t be rude.”

To his credit, Kyuhyun doesn’t protest the rough treatment much.  

“Clearly I’m bisexual,” says Changmin, and flips internet tabs to Instagram so he can follow Stephanie Lee, all the while daring Kyuhyun to comment.

Kyuhyun doesn’t.

Like clockwork, Changmin’s phone starts lighting up with no doubt freaking out managers and SM staff members.

Changmin doesn’t care. They’re friends, it was good to see her again at Fashion Week, and Changmin wanted to follow her anyway. This was just an easy way to do it without having to overthink it. Also, the over controlling executives at SM Entertainment could suck it for all Changmin gives a fuck.

He keeps going, since Kyuhyun’s still not saying anything (he’s squinting at Changmin’s computer again but that’s beside the point), elaborating further. “Also, this has nothing to do with sexuality,” Changmin says. “This is about being better than Yunho-hyung.”

He clicks back into his porn window where the video has apparently been playing this entire time. Changmin’s AdBlock gets to earn it’s due.

“At fucking guys,” deadpans Kyuhyun finally.

Changmin should say something in agreement. Instead, he tilts his head to the side as he tries to imagine himself in place of either of the fucking guys, and Yunho in the other.

“You think Yunho-hyung will let me fuck him?” he asks Kyuhyun in hushed tones.

The man on the screen makes an unflattering and unsexy face as he orgasms on the other man’s dick.

“They don’t pay me enough for this,” mutters Kyuhyun.

“Go back to your library and your audiobooks, Cho Public Service Worker-nim,” says Changmin immediately. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready to be a big boy.”

Kyuhyun scowls, and finally takes control of the laptop. “First of all, are you using Instagram on you fucking computer?” He closes the tab almost vindictively, ignoring any and all protests from Changmin.

“Kyu--”

“Second of all, have you not heard of incognito mode?”

Changmin’s internet browser is closed all together, before Kyuhyun opens a new window and then does a few fancy keystrokes to keep Changmin’s history clean of his sins.

“Third of all, what specifically do you want to do to Yunho-hyung?”

Changmin worries he’s making a horrendous face.

“Do better than Yunho-hyung,” Kyuhyun amends quickly. “What specifically do you want to do _better_ than Yunho-hyung?”

“Blowjobs,” Changmin says.

His mouth waters.

That’s. That’s weird, isn’t it?

Kyuhyun types in the words and hits enter, one hand pressed over one eye. “I should have left Suju and done acting with Kibum-hyung,” he mutters. “I should have decided Kibum-hyung was my best friend, and left you slumming it with 86 line.”

“You love me,” Changmin says.

“Clearly,” Kyuhyun says. “Are you taking notes?”

The first video is what it says on the tin, and within two minutes flat one guy’s dick is down another guy’s throat.

Changmin very dutifully mimes his own pad and paper. “Do not bite off Yunho-hyung’s dick,” he starts with.

Kyuhyun snorts. “I mean, I think you’ll be fine. He’s fine.” He points. “And you have a much larger mouth than he does.” He lowers his hand. “Your mouth’s like massive by comparison.”

“Hey,” Changmin protests softly. “That’s only nice when the fans and Yunho say it.”

Kyuhyun shoots him an annoyingly insightful look, before hitting pause on the video. “Wait, I have an idea,” he says. “Have you got any bananas? You should practice for real.”

Changmin does have bananas. Changmin’s been on a health kick, and bananas are killer in smoothies.

“This is why I keep you around, Kyuhyun-ah, honestly,” he says, and stands to go collect the produce.

\--

Changmin is having an embarrassing amount of trouble with the stupid strip of fabric they’ve make him wear as a choker for almost the entire album showcase. They let him take it off when they performed ‘The Chance of Love’ and said goodnight officially to their fans, but Changmin put it back on one more time after because he’d been having a war with his stylist over if it was tight enough. It clips on with a combination of metal buckles that go somewhere tucked into the back of whatever blazer Changmin happens to have on, but for some reason, Changmin cannot get the metal rings to behave. He’s swearing, sweating, and Yunho is already starting to check his pockets like he’s going to leave their dressing room, so Changmin says fuck it, turns around, meets the man’s slightly curious eyes, and puts all his cards on the table.

“Yunho-hyung,” he says. “I’m better at blowjobs than you.”

Yunho blinks, rapidly, and stops trying to figure out if he has his keys.

“You don’t,” Changmin says, crossing the room to tug them out from under his own bag. “You idiot.” The word comes out soft.

Yunho is still staring at him, immobile.

“Um.” Changmin is starting to doubt himself, which he can’t do. Doubting lies the way of sitting despondently on his tile floor, legs a lotus flower, covered in banana and slobber, while Cho Kyuhyun laughed at him and kept threatening to take a picture to send to Heechul-hyung.

“It’s funny! Because the only reason you’re doing this! Is because you want to choke on Yunho-hyung’s dick!” Kyuhyun had said in between brays of obnoxious laughter. “But at this rate! You might actually do that! Imagine! TVXQ’s Choikang Changmin asphyxiates to death on his bandmate U Know Yunho’s dick! You’d single handedly ruin SM Entertainment!”

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho says. “What are you doing?”

Changmin takes the initiative and comes to stand in front of him, only to drop onto his knees instead. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says. “Winning.” And then he puts his hands on Yunho’s thighs, half fists, and waits, heart pounding, blood roaring in both ears.

They’re probably bright red. They’re probably giving away how surprisingly not brave Changmin feels, laid bare like this.

Although this isn’t his fault. Yunho’s the one who had to say the thing in the first place. In fact--

Changmin looks up at Yunho, mouth turned down, so he can give him a piece of his mind, and then stops when Yunho puts both hands in Changmin’s hair.

“I don’t have a paper bag on me,” the man says quietly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

For two seconds Changmin can’t tell if Yunho’s serious, so he ends up sort of staring up at him blankly for far too long.

Yunho goes beautifully, splotchily pink. “I just mean in the interest of keeping things fair and scientific, is all,” he says quickly. “Sorry, Changminnie, I’m not a thinker like you.”

Changmin hits him on the thighs. “Stop that,” he snaps. “You’re fine.”

Yunho goes even more perfectly pink, but his hands are steady and solid in Changmin’s hair.

Changmin holds onto that like a landline, grounded. “It’s fine,” he says, addressing Yunho’s point. “I don’t make a point to stare at your dick, Hyung.” He is now, but that’s mostly because it’s right there, gently starting to round out in Yunho’s post-show sweats. “I’ll just look at your, uh.”

“Pubic hair?” says Yunho.

Changmin uncurls his hands so he can snap Yunho’s waistband in retaliation. “Forward,” he says. “I’m just going to look forward.”

The grip Yunho has in Changmin’s hair goes very suddenly tight, and Changmin looks up, wincing.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?” says Yunho.

Changmin has a whole slew of things he wants to say to that but mostly he’s thinking he needs to get Yunho smashed and interrogate him about past partners, because what the heck sort of double life has the man been living to have been apparently, walking around sucking other guy’s dicks, that Changmin somehow missed this--

“Mine too,” Yunho says quickly, sounding almost bashful. “I was lying before. I mean. I’ve had people--”

“Suck your dick?” Changmin interjects dryly. “I should hope so, Hyung, it’s great.”

Yunho lets go of him with one hand so he can cuff him gently about one ear. “Don’t be rude,” he says. “You lose points for being rude.”

Changmin lowers his gaze back down to the front of Yunho’s sweatpants, and with a great sigh, drags them down below his ass.

Yunho’s got boxers on, thankfully.

They really leave nothing to the imagination.

“Too bad,” Yunho says quietly. “Imagine if my dick had hit you in the face.”

Changmin has to shut his eyes to prevent himself from palming the man in the balls instead, and not in the good way. “Hyung,” he says. “You are very bad at this.”

Yunho’s hands swipe gently through Changmin’s sweat-damp, post-show bangs, pushing the red-tinted strands away from Changmin’s overgrown forehead, and leaving him shiny and glinting under the fluorescent lights.

This really is the worst place to do this, Changmin thinks.

“Sorry, Changminnie,” Yunho says.

Changmin tugs down Yunho’s boxers next. His breath catches. Yunho’s longer than he remembers. And not as thick. He’s also halfway hard, with no kissing, and no touching, and no nothing but Changmin on his knees, wearing a choker, staring him down.

But then maybe it’s the stage. Maybe Yunho’s actually into the stage. Changmin lifts his head to try to ask and has to physically hold himself together for two seconds because of the way Yunho is looking down at him, eyes blown, mouth parted, and cheeks still just a hit more than post-show flushed.

“Are you trying to regain points for anticipation because it’s working, but you’ve probably got like ten seconds before I start to get annoyed and dock you infinitely--”

“Gosh, Hyung, you’re lame,” Changmin says, and with a sobering pause, puts his mouth on Yunho’s cock.

It’s different than he was expecting. Changmin’s not been going around licking other people’s dicks, nor has he the flexibility required to lick his own dick, nor does he make it a point to lick his hands after jerking off, or anything, but he’s read things and he’s seen things and he’s not-so-casually inquired on the internet as to the texture and flavor of cock. It’s not the same as the reality, which is musky and probably sweaty and definitely mostly skin-tasting. Changmin wagers if he put his mouth on the crease of Yunho’s thigh, to his left and equally conveniently located, it would taste much the same.

But around the time he thinks that, he comes to another, glaring conclusion, one that wasn’t hammered into him by his managers and his minders, but instead was hammered home by his extremely red-faced mother, around the time she ended up on _Yashimmanman_ listening to Changmin talk about porn.

He pulls off. “Hyung. Are you clean?”

“Yes, Changdollie, I’ll have Youngtak send Jooyoung this month’s physical just please--” And Yunho puts his hands more solidly in Changmin’s hair and oh so gently shoves.

Oh.

Changmin’s a lot better at this than he’d assumed, given all he’d done was sort of mouth at the head of Yunho’s dick. “Cool,” he tells Yunho, and Yunho’s dick, before giving an experimental slide down the tip of it. He and Yunho are both circumcised (something that was a relief, when serving alongside his so called peers) so it’s not like Yunho’s dick is all that different from Changmin’s own, but Changmin still finds himself pausing with only the head in his mouth (again; Yunho might kill him) to pull off with more comments.

“I think your dick is longer than mine--”

“Changminnie, if you do not put your mouth where your money is I am going to tell everyone in SM you are appalling at sucking dicks and also that you _suck_ at kissing--”

Changmin circles a hand around the base of Yunho’s cock like the dudes in porn do to avoid looking bad, and stuffs as much of Yunho’s dick as possible into his mouth.

“It’s put your money where your mouth is, Yunho-hyung,” he says, but not really, around Yunho’s pretty, pretty cock.

“Shit, fuck, Changdollie, please,” says Yunho, going weak at the knees.

Changmin pulls off him once more mostly to see about moving back over towards the chairs set up in the center of the dressing room for them to sit in waiting to go on stage--

Where are Manager-hyungdeul, Changmin wonders.

Where are their stylists and their entourage and the people in charge of Blue Square, Changmin wonders.

“Do you want to sit down or are you good with making it super obvious how good I am at this--” Changmin says.

Yunho keeps his hands tight in Changmin’s hair and walks them both over towards one of the chairs with strained breaths and a hard gnaw to his bottom lip. He sinks down into it.

“Alright cool,” Changmin says, significantly less composed now that he’s been walked through the room on his knees with his hand still wrapped loosely around the base of Yunho’s dick. “Cool. Awesome.”

Yunho slips his hands down out of Changmin’s hair so that one of them is fingering the closure of the choker they’ve got him wearing. He doesn’t hook it off, just slips one pad of an index finger underneath and rubs at the skin there, and Changmin whines, hunches back into it--“No, no, Changminnie, please--” and then goes back down on Yunho, hand still acting as a decoy, trying to be mindful of his teeth, whatever that really means.

Kyuhyun kept shouting that at him when they were practicing with the bananas and Changmin kept biting off bits of banana and throwing them at him but Kyuhyun and biting is absolutely not what Changmin wants to be thinking of with his mouth crammed full of Yunho’s cock, so he does his best to turn his brain off and does his best to hollow his cheeks out and gives Yunho one long, first suck.

“Fuck,” Yunho says again, head thrown back into the seat he’d settled into, ass all over the cushion, and hips already fucking up despite himself.

Changmin hums around the cock in his mouth, pleased.

“You’re so good at that,” Yunho says a little nonsensically--Changmin’s done like nothing--and tugs gently at Changmin’s hair with one hand, and the other still rubbing pretty circles on the back of Changmin’s neck. “Changdollie, please.”

Changmin wants to come off his dick so that he can ask him what he’s asking for and also get an initial score, but he’s also got the good sense not to quit while he’s ahead, and focuses instead on well, giving Yunho good head.

The best head.

For like three blessedly easy minutes, right hand wrapped around the base of Yunho’s dick giving him little rubs whenever Changmin comes up off him, partially experimenting with length of stroke and tongue and teeth. Some teeth, good, more teeth, not so good, Yunho’s hands yanking at the velvet around Changmin’s neck, surprisingly good--

“More, please,” Yunho says.

Changmin blinks his eyes up at him and finds him surprisingly watching back, and that’s enough for him to come off of Yunho’s dick so he can stare back. His jaw aches a little from being unhinged for so long. His cheeks feel hot, his forehead feels sweaty, and the choker is a constant presence around his neck.

“Looking at me defeats the purpose,” says Changmin. His voice definitely sounds the way girls sound in porn, husky and like they’ve been taking cocks all night long.

Yunho’s eyes flutter and his hand finally leaves Changmin’s hair so he can put both up under the choker, thumbs hooking near the sides like he wants to yank on it.

Changmin goes breathless and dizzy and has to take a few seconds to let that image file away for later, when he has time to work himself over in a post-show shower.

Although really where are Manager-hyungdeul?

“Did you text Manager-hyung?” asks Changmin. His voice is a little less ‘your dick was down my throat’ now.

“When you got on your knees,” Yunho says.

Changmin should almost be embarrassed, because he hadn’t even noticed Yunho had his phone out.

“I’m still on my knees,” he says softly instead.

Yunho gives the choker one last gentle tug, before gliding both hands up to rub at the hook of Changmin’s jaw, just before his ears. Then he slides further in to trace Changmin’s bottom lip.

Changmin thinks he’s got pre-come painted there, alongside an unflattering amount of spit.

Yunho looks like he likes that.

Changmin likes that he likes it. He swallows, throat bobbing.

Yunho follows the line of that movement with bated breath. “You are still on your knees,” he says. “And rapidly losing points for length of blowjob--”

Changmin snaps at his retreating fingers playfully, before turning his attention back down to Yunho’s cock. “I have to keep you on your toes,” he says, leaning back down to blow on the tip of Yunho’s erection just by virtue of speech. “Weren’t you the one who said surprise was everything?”

“No, that was definitely you, Changminnie,” says Yunho, before Changmin puts his mouth back on him, and neither of them do much more talking at all.

Changmin doesn’t deepthroat Yunho. He tries, lets go of him and breathes through his nose and tries to go down all the way slightly--

Only to come back up frantically, heart racing, breath stuttering, while Yunho pets praises behind his ears and swears profusely up at the ceiling--

“Ten out of ten, Changdollie, you’re right. You’re the best--”

Next time they do this Changmin’s going to let Yunho come all in his eyelashes, because he thinks people are supposed to like that, given porn, and also because the alternative is swallowing again, and Changmin really would rather not.

Afterwards he sits there on his knees with his hands resting atop Yunho’s thighs, cheek rubbed up against one back of his own hand and peeking coyly up at Yunho through his lashes alongside the man’s own dick--

Yunho’s shuts his eyes, lets go of Changmin’s hair, and grabs the back of Changmin’s neck so he can haul him up into his lap on the seat with him, all the way singing praises and muttering on about cartoon Cervidae. He gets Changmin off in a spectacularly easy two minutes, one hand wrapped around Changmin’s dick, the other on the back of his head, talking dirty into the shell of Changmin’s ear like that’s a competition too.

It definitely should be, Changmin thinks, mid-peak, head thrown back, mouth open in a soundless scream, and already thinking of breaks in schedules for them to up the ante.

“So, Yunho-hyung,” he says when he finally feels capable of using his mouth again. “Still think you’re the best at blowjobs?”

Under him, Yunho barely stirs.

Changmin has to pinch him in the underarm to get him to respond, scrabbling around in a way that’s incredibly juvenile, but could go NC-17 in two seconds flat, given what they’d been doing hardly more than that prior. “Yunho-hyung.”

“Mmm.” Yunho dips up to peck him on the sort of mouth, mostly the corner, and then stays right up there against Changmin’s cheek. “You’re good,” he says. “Kind of sloppy, very messy, and it is your first time--”

“I don’t make a point to go out and find people’s dicks to suck, Yunho-hyung,” snaps Changmin, a little embarrassed, but also a lot pleased.

“But I still reign supreme at handjobs, clearly,” finishes Yunho, sounding smug.

Changmin smacks him in the center of the chest.

Yunho hisses.

Changmin rubs apologies into the spot immediately in response.

“You’ll just have to come over and put a paper bag over your head,” Yunho says. “For science.”

Changmin hides a smirk in top of Yunho’s head.

\--

After that they get almost too busy for their competition, between the album and comeback and the hell that is music programs.

Changmin still manages to give as good as he gets in terms of handjobs.

Yunho it turns out is unfairly good at getting most of Changmin’s dick in his mouth.

And throughout it all--five blessed days of it--Changmin feels like a million won, with how light and airily he’s flying through life.

“Good orgasms will do that to you,” he tells Minho, over a beer. “Also, it’s like. I haven’t been able to let myself flirt in years because I was too worried about the repercussions of getting caught with someone.”

“Ah,” Minho says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“And Yunho-hyung gives really good head,” Changmin adds, because that’s what he’s supposed to say. “But don’t tell him that. That would defeat the purpose.”

“I understand why Kyuhyun-hyung keeps talking about asking SM for a raise when he discharges,” Minho says.

Changmin just happily sips his beer, unbothered.

\--

They don’t fuck until the 4th. Changmin spends the 2nd liking Stephanie Lee’s photos on Instagram and gently nudges his stylists towards Sakura trees on the 3rd and drops a photo casually onto Instagram on the 4th itself.

Yunho goes worried and shrewd, and still willing to go to bat for him because it’s not like Changmin’s doing much of anything, really, and also, certainly he knows better that close to their comeback.

SM lets him off with a warning, which Changmin promptly ignores to blow bubbles at the fansign.

It’s not serious, Instagram. But it’s also been so long and Changmin missed talking to girls oh so much, even if he’s not really flirting with Stephanie (they really are just friends, and she really does just find the whole thing amusing) so much as it is flirting with the danger of the fans reading absurdities into idol atrocities by way of heteronormativity.

Still by the time they’re set free from the fansign Changmin is itching for it, and therefore makes Jooyoung-hyung take him to Yunho’s place instead of his. “It’s comeback,” he explains as the man starts to follow Yunho’s car. “It’s easier.”

“You’ve got an early flight tomorrow,” Jooyoung-hyung says quietly, even as he complies with Changmin’s request.

“It’ll be easier to take one car, then,” Changmin says.

Jooyoung-hyung frowns.

“We’ll still take two cars, then,” Changmin corrects, chin raising slightly.

“Fine,” Jooyoung-hyung says.

The rest of the drive passes in silence. Changmin wonders if Yunho realizes they’re both heading to the same place. Changmin wonders if Yunho thinks they’re just going to continue where they’ve been, skirting around edges and continually insisting neither of them are very good in bed, collection of earth-shattering orgasms each of them has accrued notwithstanding.

Jooyoung-hyung pulls into Yunho’s parking garage following Yunho’s car with a long, drawn out sigh. “Two cars,” the man says, as Changmin exits to catch Yunho bowing his way into the building past neighbors he no doubt knows all the kid’s names of. “The flight is at eleven.”

Changmin doesn’t roll his eyes. “I have read my schedule, Jooyoung-hyung,” he says.

“It’s the one with the fans,” Jooyoung-hyung continues, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Behave.”

Changmin shoots the man a mock affronted look, before hurrying his own way into Yunho’s building towards the elevators.

By the time he reaches Yunho’s apartment, Yunho has vanished into the master bedroom probably for a shower, and Changmin has a terrible thought of climbing in with him. It’s not like he’s never showered with someone else before--Military, case in fucking point--but also, that’s not why he’s here, really. He’s here because of the 25th, technically, when Yunho said the thing. When Yunho equated prowess at kissing to prowess at fucking and Changmin was too busy having a mental breakdown because of polka-dots and makeshift onesies, and more focused on the thought of proving his own prowess at kissing to do more than make jokes.

 _And that alone lets me know I’m better in bed than you_ , said Changmin, and apparently, spent the next five or so days thinking about how to prove that fact undisputedly like a dog with a bone.

Because it’s not like the past five days have been boring, but…

Changmin’s jerked off in bed before. He’s jerked off while lying on his couch before. And sure, he’s never jerked off sprawled across his kitchen countertops, before (Yunho is going to make up for the three hours Changmin spent cleaning his entire kitchenette eventually or so help Changmin) but ultimately it wasn’t that different to the couch or the bed or whatever. And yeah, getting jerked off by hands not his own (and blown, by mouth not his own, since Changmin’s still not that flexible) is great, but it’s not the same as fucking.

Which is why Changmin is here, loitering nervously in Yunho’s master bedroom, listening to the sounds of the man in the shower, and laughing anxiously to himself about how much messier the place is when there isn’t a camera crew filming everything for MBC.

The water shuts off.

Changmin clears his throat a few times. “Yunho-hyung.” He has to work to be heard over the sounds of Yunho washing his face with cold water from the sink. He fights down the urge to tell the man to use cleanser. He doesn’t tell him not to shave, because thinking about stubble lining the angles of Yunho’s jaw reminds Changmin of the burn between his thighs, and makes his heartbeat go wonky and his toes curl against the hardwood of Yunho’s floors.

The door to Yunho’s bathroom opens. “Changdol-ah,” Yunho says, standing there in a towel and nothing else, holding the jeans he had on for the fansign like he’s seriously considering tugging them back on, no underwear and all.

Changmin winces, puts a hand down over his own cock in sympathy, before stalking his way forward to put hands on his hyung. On his hips, pressing thumbs into his perfectly carved hip bones.

Yunho’s breath catches.

This is how blowjobs start, usually. Changmin has to fight to keep from going down on his knees. “Yunho-hyung,” he says again.

Yunho’s got eyes on Changmin’s mouth and a part to his lips. “Yes?”

Changmin goes shaky and shivery from that word alone. “I said I was better at fucking than you,” he manages finally.

Yunho lets the jeans drop to the floor, and twists to the left so that he can walk them back into sight of his mirror.

Changmin looks despite himself, which is a mistake, because Yunho looks so much smaller than Changmin without clothes on, still a little damp from the shower, and looking up at him because Changmin’s taller when they’re not both in shoe lifts. “Fuck, Hyung,” he says.

Yunho has the audacity to smirk at him. “Is that what you’re asking, Changmin-ah?” he says.

Changmin wants to kiss him right up against his ridiculous amount of closets because kissing is the only thing he’s managed to wrangle out of Yunho, spent off one orgasm and begging for another one and willing to say much of anything, it seems, to the point where the next time Changmin spoke to anyone in Suju (before their show in Taipei) Siwon-hyung sent him several clapping emoji and Heechul-hyung called him to just to laugh at him.

“Yes,” says Changmin, in answer to Yunho’s questions. Never let it be said that Changmin has ever beat around the bush. Especially not with 184 centimeters of naked, South Korean Adonis standing before him. The King of the Stage himself. Who’s definitely into Changmin’s frank honesty, when it comes to their little competition.

This time is no exception.

Yunho puts both hands on Changmin’s shoulders and shudders, fogging up the mirror by way of bodyheat alone. “Okay.”

Changmin thinks this entire thing has been way too easy, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Cool,” he says. “For science.”

“For science,” Yunho replies, and kisses him.

They end up pressed together with Yunho’s back digging into two drawers in his dresser and the towel nowhere to be found, Changmin’s slacks around one ankle, and Changmin’s trench coast tossed who knows where. Yunho’s walking Changmin’s hand back down around the swell of his ass to cup one cheek, teeth worrying at the line of Changmin’s neck and hips rocking his cock helpfully up against Changmin’s boxer-clad one. They graduated to the undisputed king of teenage fooling around--dry humping--somewhere around the time Changmin finally got his hand on Yunho’s dick, and then decided there really needed to be no competition regarding handjobs because everyone came out of handjobs happy because everyone came, essentially.

“Changminnie,” he’s saying, in between nips to Changmin’s neck and jugular. “Changminnie--Hyung will let you--Changminnie please--”

Changmin really doesn’t know what to do with this thing Yunho has for talking in the third person, but also, he really doesn’t want to point it out because gosh is it hot and gosh does it make it hard to call Yunho ‘Yunho-hyung’ on camera. He lets his left hand cradle Yunho’s left asscheek, fingertips poking just into the seam of his asscrack, and cataloguing the hiss that gets him. He watches the way Yunho’s eyes roll back a little and he rips away from Changmin’s neck to blink blearily up at him from his spot sort of propped against his dresser.

The thing shakes.

The beauty products lining it shiver in their haphazard spots.  

Changmin takes deep lungfuls of air. “Do you,” he says, finally kicking out of his pants properly, so that he’s standing before Yunho dressed in his striped shirt and boxers. “Do you have stuff?”

“Stuff?” Yunho’s voice is doing that low graveling thing again, like he’s worn out from hours in the vocal booth.

“Yeah, stuff,” Changmin says, realizing with great panic that maybe he did not think this through. He tries to come up and away from Yunho, but Yunho doesn’t let him, hooking a leg around Changmin’s waist and pulling so that they end up even more pressed front to front, Changmin’s eyes crossing to keep staring at him, and their noses almost bumping.

“Changdollie…” Yunho’s got a look in his eye that usually ends with Changmin agreeing to all sorts of ridiculous things, like the more absurd missions in Japan, and two more run throughs of an entire stage show in whichever country they happen to be in.

Changmin scowls at him. “Lube,” he says, before Yunho can bring up that whole thing about not being mature enough to ask for what you want. “Do you have lube?”

And now Yunho’s the one blushing. “Yes, actually,” he says, somehow still with great dignity, even with his leg up around Changmin’s waist and his not-at-all-uninterested cock up against the flap of Changmin’s boxers. “Go get on the bed.”

Changmin’s stomach does a few horrible vaults inside his abdomen, but he still manages to get himself together enough to do as asked, curiously watching Yunho disappear back into his bathroom without the towel.

“Strip,” Yunho calls after him.

“Pick up your things,” Changmin retorts, pulling his shirt off himself first and folding it to set down at the end of Yunho’s bed. The boxers come off next, a little less straightforwardly, because dragging them over his bobbing, throbbing cock is like the worst kind of tease.

Yunho comes back out of the bathroom to pick up the towel pointedly, but then stares at Changmin for a long while with terribly scrutinous eyes.

Changmin twitches on the bed and puts his arms up above his head, trying to look cool.

“Get yourself off a little if you want,” continues Yunho, returning to the bathroom with the towel. “But not all the way. Although that shouldn’t be hard, since you’re so bad at it.”

Changmin is going to murder Yunho’s ass just for that alone. “You came twice in my hands last time, Yunho-hyung,” he says politely, raising his voice in case Yunho can’t hear him as clearly through the bathroom walls. “Or were they both such fabulous orgasms that you’ve forgotten?”

Yunho makes his way out of the bathroom slowly, one hand behind his back, still naked, still hard, and glaring. “You’re not playing with yourself,” he says.

Changmin watches him make his way across the room to him with his chest heaving only a little. “I was waiting for you.”

Yunho sets the bottle down on the bed before he clamors onto it, working his way on his knees until he’s settled hovering directly overtop Changmin’s chest, cock waving with every move of his hips.

He’s high enough that if Changmin shifted down, he could get that cock in his mouth without even having to work for it. Yunho’d totally fuck his mouth. Changmin probably wouldn’t even have to ask. He swallows. That probably doesn’t help much; Yunho looks, and keeps looking, before picking up the lube and dropping it on Changmin’s chest. It’s an American brand. Durex Play. Changmin doesn’t have the capacity to read more than that.

He’s too busy trying to figure out why Yunho keeps lubricant in his bathroom. “Yunho-hyung…”

“It’s also massage gel,” Yunho says, with great composure despite his dick being almost within reach of Changmin’s mouth. “Don’t say anything.”

Changmin lets his hands down from behind his head and sits up so that his abs bump up against Yunho’s ass. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, retrieving the lube before it can fall down between them. He pops the cap off, curiously, and then squirts a few drops onto his fingertips.

“You’re going to put your left hand in me?” Yunho says easily. “That’s adventurous. Which one of us is ambidextrous again?”

“Only because we’re children of the 80s, Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin, rubbing the stuff between his fingertips distractedly, marveling pointedly at how it warms to his body temperature almost in preparation. “Huh.”

Yunho puts both hands on his shoulders. “Changdol-ah,” he says. “It’s lube. You’ve used lube before. You’re a man. You jerk off.”

Changmin blinks up at him. “I thought you said it was massage gel?”

Yunho scowls at him.

Changmin lubes his dominant hand and hooks an arm over top Yunho’s left leg. “Okay, calm down,” he says. He means it for Yunho, but it carries over for himself. He’s never done this before. Like. He’s put fingers in people before, obviously, but never Yunho-hyung.

His swallows.

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho says mildly. “You’re at barely three points and that’s only because you got me all worked up over by my dresser--”

Changmin scowls, then sinks as much of one finger into Yunho that he can, at this angle. It’s not a poor amount. Changmin gets almost to the knuckle, Yunho stops talking almost immediately, and for two blessed seconds they sit in silence with Changmin just sort of coming to terms with the fact that he has a finger in his hyung’s ass, and Yunho mouth-breathing down at him with fluttering lashes.

Yunho says, “It’s okay, Changdollie, you don’t have to be good at everything.”

Changmin growls and manhandles Yunho further up the bed so that he can better put two fingers in him, curling and hooking and exploring like he knows people like.

Yunho moans and groans and sighs, body tightening for a moment before going loose. He puts his nails into the meat of one of Changmin’s shoulders, smoothing fingers through Changmin’s bangs with his other hand. “Never mind,” he says hoarsely. “Never mind.”

Changmin shoots him a smug, pleased look, before bending up to kiss him, fingers twisting and curving and working. Yunho hasn’t got a G-spot but he has got a prostate, and Changmin’s watched enough gay porn in the name of this experiment (and slept with enough women in the real world) to know he needs to find it before he puts his dick in, if he wants any chance of holding onto any semblance of control. “You’re so tight, Yunho-hyung,” he says. He thinks that’s a compliment. People say that all the time, in porn.

“Thank you?” says Yunho, voice going up at the end. “Um. Changdol--” His voice cracks when Changmin gives him three fingers, more lube added to the mix because he’s a multitasker and as much of an overachiever as the man he calls bandmate.

“You were saying?” Changmin says, fingering Yunho in earnest now, ignoring the awkward angle of his wrist and the fact that he has like zero idea what a prostate is even supposed to feel like.

“Oh--shit--Changmin--” Yunho goes tense in his lap and clamps down so hard on Changmin’s fingers that Changmin lets out a loose, moaning breath somewhere around Yunho’s cheek.

“Was that--” says Changmin, circling his fingers curiously.

“Dunno, do it again to be sure,” says Yunho, pivoting his hips counter to Changmin’s fingers. “Maybe--” His voice punches out when Changmin drags his index finger along what is definitely his prostate again. “Maybe do it three times--”

Changmin puts his other hand on the small of Yunho’s back and holds, keeping Yunho balanced on top of him as he hooks his fingers into him and _rubs_.

“ _Shim Changmin-ah you absolute fucking tease you are the worst_ ,” moans Yunho, scrabbling mindlessly against Changmin’s chest and shuddering, collapsing a little so that his cock makes a mess of Changmin’s washboard abs.

“Thank you,” Changmin tells Yunho sweetly, and does it again.

“ _I fucking hate you never stop doing that oh my God, Changdollie, please_ ,” moans Yunho, even more boneless across Changmin’s front. “Please, please, please--” He punctuates each plea with fucks of his hips, rocking his dick against Changmin’s own but also rocking his hips back on Changmin’s fingers, and Changmin doesn’t know which one he’s aiming for, but the way Yunho’s gone flushed and shut-eyed and groaning is making him start to think he should have offered to be fucked first.

He shakes that thought away, however, because this is about blowing Yunho’s brains out.

About being the best at fucking.

Period.

He pulls his fingers free of Yunho.

Yunho’s eyes blink open and he pouts. “Changdollie-yah.”

Changmin wipes his fingers on the back of Yunho’s thigh before he can stop himself, before reaching for the bottle of lube. “I thought you said I could fuck you,” he explains, wetting his hand some more and reaching for his own, achingly hard cock. “Or am I so good in bed you don’t even need me to?”

Yunho growls at him and puts his own hand down into the fray, batting Changmin aside and giving Changmin’s dick three long, beautiful pulls. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Changmin,” he says breathily, almost unfairly easily for how perfectly he’s working Changmin right to the edge with just a handjob.

That’s what Changmin gets, for falling into bed with the man every moment he’s had since Heechul-hyung said the thing, especially with the express purpose of finding out who was the best at all things sex; Yunho’s getting unfairly _good_ at figuring out how to get Changmin to best embarrass himself by way of coming far too fast for thirty-one damn years old.

“It’s one thing to be good with your hands,” Yunho continues, finishing with Changmin’s cock and positioning it so he can sink down on it. “And another to be good with your dick--”

“That--” Changmin sounds like he’s getting up close and personal with Yunho’s asshole in a way he’d never thought he’d be doing not a month ago. “That is not at all something people say--”

“No it is,” says Yunho, working his hips in circles to help get Changmin all the way into him, not stopping or going slow enough or doing any of the things Changmin read about online the night before, mindless from a few orgasms, and unable to get to sleep. “It absolutely is something people say-- _fuck_ \--” He sits down all the way on Changmin’s cock and breathes, thighs practically shaking.

Changmin rocks his hips a little before he can help himself.

Yunho swears. “Fuck, oh, Changdol, too soon.” His eyes are closed and his head is back and his cock is red and swollen up between his and Changmin’s abdomen. “Too soon, too soon, too soon--” He starts shifting his hips in tiny circles despite his words, eyes still closed, head still back, and thighs still shaking.

Changmin sits under him with his hands carefully resting atop Yunho’s knees, breath coming in great heaves. “Um.”

“Too soon, too soon, too soon, Changdol--” Yunho’s mantra doesn’t stop but he starts to lift himself up just to see what it’s like to come back down anyway.

“I’m not doing anything--you’re doing everything--”

“Exactly--you’re bad at this-- _fuck, Changdol_ , you’re so fucking _bad_ at this--”

“I am not bad at this. I am better than you at this. You. Stay still,” snaps Changmin, finally taking Yunho by the hips and fucking up into him at the same time Yunho drops himself down Changmin’s cock.

Yunho’s eyes fly open and his mouth rounds on a silent scream and he’s tight and perfect and wonderful and Changmin can’t look away from him. “Oh,” Yunho says. “Oh. Okay. Wait.”

Changmin doesn’t know what he wants him to wait for. Changmin doesn’t know how he’s expected to be able to wait period. Changmin feels, suddenly, that he’s not really in charge much at all--

Yunho plants his knees and lifts, evenly, before sinking back down on Changmin’s dick a few times until he gets a good bounce going.

“Shit, Hyung, what--” says Changmin, with no dignity, as it happens.

“You’re so good at this, Changminnie, Hyung takes back everything he said earlier just please--”

“I--” Changmin really needs to have a talking to himself about this third person thing because it’s ridiculous and stupid sounding and _not hot_ at all! “I’m not doing anything--”

Yunho peels an eye open and keeps riding Changmin’s dick. “Yes and as I said that’s kind of the problem--four out of ten--”

Changmin palms him aggressively by one ass cheek and tugs so that he can fuck, tucking his knees under himself and using his grip on Yunho’s ass to help flip the man under him, chasing his rapidly gasping mouth and glaring at him. “I’ll show you four out of ten--you’ll forget the score by the time I’m done--”

Yunho’s head ends up sort of off the bed and the bottle of lube ends up somewhere underneath his ass, but he puts a hand on the back of Changmin’s neck and holds on anyway.

“Yes--Changdol--Please--” It’s like that’s all he can say whenever Changmin gets anywhere near to giving him an orgasm, and in the interest of why the heck not, Changmin shoves a hand down between them to rub over Yunho’s cock. “ _Fuck_ \--Changdol--Please--”

Changmin kisses him to shut him up, shudders only a little bit when Yunho’s legs wrap up around his waist like a vice and does his best to give as good as he said he could.

The lapse in control was only momentary, and totally not worthy of abandoning ship.

Especially not with how Yunho doesn’t come the first time, just gets closer and closer and closer until he’s shaking on Changmin’s softening cock, eyes glassy and teary and angry as he hauls Changmin down for kisses and tells him meanly, “You’re not good at this. How dare you come first?”

Changmin snarls at him, thinks it’s really not fair since Yunho’s clearly never had the opportunity to put his dick inside himself and therefore doesn’t know how tight and perfect and wonderful it is. He tells Yunho that, rocking himself into the man regardless because Yunho keeps whining whenever he does so, and doing his best to pull out all the stops to get the man off with his hand alone.

“You’re better at handjobs than me--oh-- _Changmin_ \--” says Yunho, as he comes.

Changmin lifts a hand to his mouth to lick it clean, terribly smug.

Yunho watches him with huge eyes, chest heaving, and reaches for him before he’s even finished shaking through the aftershocks. “But not at fucking. I’m better at fucking. Let me show you, Changminnie, please--”

“You’re so needy,” Changmin says, as Yunho grabs hold of him and arranges him and kisses him, heart going a mile a minute in his chest.

“It’s just good science,” Yunho says instantly, already holding the lube and already rubbing fingers across Changmin’s asshole. “It’s just good science, Changdol, you like science.”

Changmin does.

“I do,” he says, which someone might laugh at him for, given the circumstances, and lies back to let Yunho prove his point.

It’s a resounding tie.

The flight to Dubai is fourteen hours of Super TV and catching up with their company juniors, and Yunho paying more attention to TRAX, while Changmin tells Jongwoon-hyung he wants to be part of Super Junior, and tries not to look too much like a man who finally got some in these dark, we’re all famous and hell if you’re caught with a woman times.

\--

Yunho corners him on their tour of the Burj Khalifa, in between Changmin’s discussions with one of the photographers about her home country, and his teasing of Minho, who finds every single person they encounter to the be the most beautiful in the world.

Because they’re out on a company field trip, there are more staff and security than ever.

Because they’re out on a company field trip, it’s surprisingly easy to end up away from the others unnoticed, Changmin leaning up against a wall in the world’s tallest building, and Yunho holding him pinned there with narrowed, unimpressed eyes.

Changmin stares back at him, curious. “Yunho-hyung.” He’s a little hoarse, he’s been talking so much this whole trip. He never gets to practice his English like this, and it might be hot, and he might be taking the utter piss out of Minho every other second, but everyone here really is lovely. Their photographer most of all.

“Changmin-ah.” Yunho’s annoyed enough to be abandoning nicknames; Changmin gets the feeling that he’d be calling him ‘Shim Changmin’ if that wasn’t likely to end with someone pinned to a wall for other reasons.

It’s not Changmin’s fault that he has a thing for orgasm denial.

It’s not Changmin’s fault that Yunho goes from swearing in dialect to using Changmin’s full name when they fool around with orgasm denial.

It’s… what was Changmin saying, before this?

“Yunho-hyung,” he settles for. Yunho-hyung is safe.

“What are you doing?” Yunho-hyung says, clearly not actually safe.

Changmin tries out his best, innocent smile. “Enjoying the world’s tallest building?” he says.

Yunho narrows his eyes at him. “You’re taking Snow videos.”

“It’s Snapchat,” Changmin corrects immediately. “They use Snapchat, here.”

Yunho waves a hand to the side, clearly not bothered.

“And you could take them too, if you asked. I’m sure the staff would love it.”

Yunho’s eyes flash. “You’d know all about what the staff love,” he says nastily.

Changmin feels the air leave his lungs. He colors despite himself. “Yunho-hyung.”

He’d just been being nice. Talking to all the managers, hanging off Minho’s arm, smiling when he met strangers in the Dubai Mall. He’d wanted a chance to practice his English, is all.

Yunho just keeps glowering at him.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Changmin says. “And rude. And blowing things all out of proportion.”

Yunho’s nostrils flare. “You’re the one being careless in a new city,” he snaps finally, getting to the point. “You should think of your reputation.”

Changmin’s mouth parts in taken aback shock.

“You should think of TVXQ’s reputation,” finishes Yunho, still keeping Changmin pressed up against the wall. He looks like he’d shake him by the nape, if he could.

Changmin stares at him. “You,” he says. “You cannot be serious, Yunho-hyung.”

Yunho meets his eyes. “Oh, I’m very serious,” he says.

Changmin bares his teeth at him and shoves him back, not hard enough to send him sprawling against the glass and catching the attention of their group, but hard enough to push him a step or two back. “You sound like Manager-hyung,” Changmin continues. “You sound like Lee Sooman.”

“Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim,” Yunho corrects, cruelly.

“Whatever,” Changmin snaps. “What does it matter if I talk to pretty girls? We’re here for forty eight hours.”

“It’s more than just talking to pretty girls,” Yunho counters. “It’s following pretty models on Instagram.”

Changmin feels heat flood his cheeks. “That was one model!” he protests. “That was--That’s Stephanie--you like Stephanie--we’re all friends!”

Yunho crosses his arms at stares at Changmin, mouth a hard line. He almost looks jealous. Changmin almost wants to call him out on being jealous, but what would that be for. Why would Yunho be _jealous_.

“People can be friends with people of the opposite sex, Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin primly. “And it’s not my fault you’re not as good at English.”

That’s the wrong thing to say.

Yunho snarls, shoves forward so he has Changmin up against the wall again.

“Yunho-hyung?” a voice says. “Changmin-hyung?” It’s Minho, thankfully, probably volunteered to find them because he’s the only one who knows Changmin’s been sleeping with Yunho since _72 Hours_ wrapped. “Um.”

“We’re fine, Minho-yah,” says Yunho. “Don’t let them leave without us.”

“Um,” Minho says. “Is that true, Changmin-hyung?”

Changmin loves him. “Yep,” he squeaks out. “Yep, what Yunho said.”

Yunho growls.

“Yunho-hyung said.”

Minho retreats with plodding, careful footsteps. “Bathroom,” he explains, and barrels over whomever offers, “it’s actually the other direction?” with a loud exclamation about Heechul-hyung’s hair, which distracts the group immediately.

Changmin keeps staring down at Yunho, annoyed.

Yunho stares back.

“You’re being a dick, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says loftily. “A heteronormative dick.”

Yunho looks at him as he always does when Changmin talks like his book collection, but his eyes dip to Changmin’s mouth anyway. And that’s so fucking unfair Changmin just has to shove him away again.

“I’m flirting, as you said, because for the first time in ages, I actually have a way to do more than that,” explains Changmin, still glaring. He straightens the fall of his bomber jacket, then debates taking the thing off. It’s hotter, up here. Although maybe that’s just because of Yunho, still wearing his own jacket, and practically radiating heat from where he’s still standing too close to Changmin. “You dick,” Changmin adds for good measure. “What the heck is wrong with you?”

Yunho pauses. “You what?” he asks. He sounds honestly confused.

Changmin shrugs out of his jacket. “You know,” he says. “How flirting is no fun when all you can do is go home to your right hand, or risk it and feel guilty afterwards?”

Yunho blinks. “Yes…”

Changmin folds his jacket over his hand, then sighs and meet Yunho’s eyes. The man’s sunglasses look like they’ll topple off his head in two seconds. Changmin flips them down over his eyes to hide his honest confusion. “So… now that I can just show up at your place.”

“Because of the experiment,” Yunho infers and Changmin twitches, pushing the glasses back up onto Yunho’s head.

“Because of the experiment,” he concedes. “Sorry if I’m being reckless, or whatever. Irresponsible.” He uses air quotes.

Yunho reaches in to take him by both hands.

Changmin twitches again but holds him back. “It doesn’t have to be for the experiment, though,” Changmin says. “Or the competition, or whatever.”

Yunho stares at him for a long moment. Then he swallows. “No?”

Changmin looks down at their joined hands. “Yeah.” The back of his neck feels hot. “I mean aren’t you tired of pretending I’m not amazing in bed?”

That gets him a bark of laughter, and Yunho glancing around guiltily to see if anyone has come to fetch them for a second time.

“We could just be like… friends with benefits,” Changmin says, glancing up a little shyly. “Yeah?”

Yunho is looking back at him with actual sparkles in his eyes. “Oh,” he says again. “Cool.”

Changmin is the one blinking now. “That’s it? Just ‘cool’?”

Yunho drops his own sunglasses back over his eyes with a smirk. “I mean it’s true,” he says easily, turning so that he can keep facing Changmin even as he backs to rejoin the group. “I have been tired of pretending you’re not amazing in bed. Thanks, Changdol.”

Changmin colors despite himself. “What--”

“Friends with benefits would be awesome.” Then he’s gone, back to tuck in next to Heechul-hyung and Donghae-hyung, nose poked right up to the glass staring down at the ground.

Changmin follows after him moments later, folding into Minho’s side, and smiling at the hired staff.

“Did you find the bathroom?” one of them says shyly, meeting Changmin’s eyes.

Changmin nods, smiling back. “Yes, thank you,” he says in English, and grins when they all go tittering behind their hands.

“Show off,” Minho says, shoving Changmin in the arm. _Are you okay?_ his eyes say.

 _Yeah_ , Changmin nods back. _I’m perfect_.

The rest of their stay in Dubai passes perfectly.

\--

Being friends with benefits with Yunho isn’t really that different from whatever it was Changmin was doing with Yunho prior to that moment. They still live practically out of each other’s pockets, still drive each other crazy to the point of no return because a comeback is a comeback is a comeback (Changmin gets that living together makes sense when they have to be at MBC or KBS or SBS at ungodly hours, but give or take a few music programs, they’ve actually managed to avoid that level of early call times), and in between it all, Changmin doesn’t have to come up with a hairbrained excuse about how he wants to figure out who is better at rimming between him and Yunho.

He can just show up to Yunho’s apartment or drag Yunho to his apartment, see their managers out with a wave, and sit on the other man’s face.

Which is fantastic.

Changmin’s never felt more fantastic, this comeback.

Not even when Youngtak-hyung very kindly signs them up to guest briefly on _Superman Returns_ , and two terrifying girl toddlers take turns putting makeup on Changmin, and Yunho returns with coffee and obnoxious laughter, to find Changmin wearing earrings and sporting a princess crown.

Friends with benefits is awesome, especially when Changmin’s too tired to do more than call Yunho over for a movie, or when they spend an evening practicing cracking eggs with one hand because Changmin did it literally only once for Instagram, and Chef Choi-hyungnim keeps making mouthwatering posts on the site as well.

Changmin would go so far to say that being friends with benefits with Yunho is the best decision he’s made thus far, which is why it comes as something as a shock, on the 14th, when his best friend Cho Kyuhyun stops by MBC for their pre-recording of _Music Core_ on his way to a wedding, and says, watching Changmin plan the rest of his afternoon out with Yunho by way of eyebrow raising, “are you free tonight for Mario Kart?”

“No,” Changmin says, as Yunho performs an elaborate wink that definitely means Changmin gets to pick whatever movie they watch that night if Yunho can pick the sex act. “I have plans.” He smirks back at Yunho, pleased, to let him know he’s okay with the plan.

Yunho blows Changmin a fucking kiss--the asshole--before turning innocent eyes on Heechul-hyung and a few of the NCT juniors.

“Yah Shim Chwang-ah,” Kyuhyun says. “You’re so lame now that you’re in a relationship.”

Changmin is so startled by his friend that he turns, facing the man fully, and eyeing him with blatant shock. “What?” he says, trying not to notice that Kyuhyun’s tie and shirt don’t quite match. “I’m not in a relationship. What are you talking about?”

Kyuhyun stares at him soundlessly for a few moments. “So why can’t you come over tonight for Mario Kart?”

Changmin stares at him right back. “Because I’d much rather go over to Yunho-hyung’s and get off?” he says.

One of TVXQ’s managers is passing by and the man coughs, sputtering, and Changmin winks at him.

Kyuhyun is looking at him like he cannot believe what he’s seeing. “Right,” his friend says slowly. “And that’s supposed to not make me think you’re in a relationship because…”

“We’re friends with benefits,” Changmin says easily, glancing around to make sure he’s not going to embarrass anymore managers. “Did Minho not tell you? I swore I told Minho on the plane.”

Kyuhyun continues to look at him with a visible sigh covering his entire expression. “No, he did,” he says. “I just thought he was kidding. You graduated top of your class, and all.”

Changmin blinks. “What?”

“You went on that show for scholars to learn about South Korean history, or whatever,” Kyuhyun continues. “On _I Live Alone_ , you stayed up drinking wine and practicing your Japanese.”

“Um,” says Changmin.

Kyuhyun takes him by both cheeks. “Shim Chwang-ah,” he says. “I say this with utmost love, but you are an absolute idiot.”

Changmin glares at him. “Hey.”

His friend releases him. “You and Yunho-hyung are not friends with benefits.”

Yunho wanders over to them with Heechul-hyung and a SM staff member, holding a phone, and no doubt taking photos for Instagram.

He sputters.

Changmin glares at Kyuhyun.

His friend gives no shits. “You and Yunho-hyung are _married_ ,” he continues, and then drapes an arm around them both, tugging them close for a photo.

Heechul-hyung needs to be pat on the back by at least two of NCT in the background, which Changmin is blaming for the fact that the first photo comes out terribly.

“No,” Kyuhyun says. “I’m already a squid because I’m in between you two.”

Changmin smirks but doesn’t argue.

“We need to take a few more.”

Yunho’s pose is a little standard in both of them and Changmin’s smile is a little forced in all of them (even the one he puts on his own Instagram) but he thinks he’s justified, because he’s too busy second guessing his entire life, right up to the last moment when MBC announces they’re ready for them and they have to go out on stage and perform ‘The Chance of Love.’

 _It’s alright, it’s okay, we’re fated_ , Yunho sings.

 _Oh, fuck we are married_ , Changmin concludes. He doesn’t stumble, because he’s a fucking professional.

Afterwards, he only has to put his head between his knees for a few minutes. Then he readies himself for the rest of their day--end of recording, going around to greet everyone who’s here for Music Core, practice if they can spare the time, and a fansign at the Seoul Hyundai Department Store.

He and Yunho take separate cars to Yunho’s apartment, and Changmin sits silently next to Jooyoung-hyung, breathing, and trying not to have too much of a panic attack.

He texts Kyuhyun. _You were right_ , he starts with. _What the heck do I do?_

 _Blow him_ , Kyuhyun replies immediately, since he’s a Public Service Worker and only has spare time. _I didn’t leak you Red Velvet’s new song just so you could slack on showing Yunho-hyung how good you are at deepthroating dicks_.

Changmin feels his left eye start to twitch. _First of all, Yunho-hyung knows first hand how good I am at deepthroating dicks._

He leaves out the fact that it wasn’t Kyuhyun and ‘Power Up’ that contributed to that, but instead practice, patience, and a praise kink Changmin really hadn’t realized he’d had but that he’d definitely been happy exploring.

_Second of all, what you did to that song was uncalled for, and if I wasn’t sure I’d get arrested, I’d tell Irene so she could come yell at you._

_Ba-banana Ba-ba-banana-nana,_ replies Kyuhyun.

Changmin full body twitches in time for Jooyoung-hyung to pull into his usual parking spot in Yunho’s parking garage.

_Third, what does blowing him have to do with being basically married to him?_

Yunho’s waiting for him by the doors this time, and he has the audacity to take Changmin by the hand--by the _hand_ \--and hold the door for him, all the while talking about what movie he wants to watch and also about ‘The Chance of Love’ choreography Changmin needs to work more on.

Changmin looks down at their clasped hands and starts to sweat. He slips his phone back into his pocket.

The elevator ride is the longest of his life.

Waiting for Yunho unlock his door is like pulling teeth.

Changmin practically kicks his shoes off his feet.

“Wow,” Yunho says. “I didn’t know you felt that way about the home shopping network--”

“You are not fucking me to the home shopping network, Yunho-hyung, for the last time that is the line.”

Yunho pouts. “Ah, but Changdol, those are my two favorite things.”

Changmin lifts a brow. “Fucking me and the home shopping network?” he manages.

Yunho takes him by the hand again. “You _period_ and the home shopping network,” he corrects happily. “Duh.”

Changmin looks at him and kind of wants to scream.

He takes his hand back with some semblance of control. “Jung Yunho-yah!” he says shrilly.

Yunho blinks, but doesn’t get annoyed about the banmal. “Shim… Changdol-ah?” he tries, reaching for Changmin’s hand again.

Changmin pulls them both out of reach and squawks, backing slowly down the hallway towards Yunho’s living room. “Changmin!” he says. “My name is Changmin! Call me Changmin!”

“Shim Changmin-ah?” Yunho says instead. “What--”

“We’re married!” shouts Changmin, reaching the living room and hovering awkwardly right in view of The Last Fucking Supper. Jesus stares back at him. Changmin, a moderately practicing Buddhist, squeaks.

Yunho follows Changmin’s look, then frowns. “Changmin,” he says.

“We’re married!” Changmin says again, voice still embarrassingly high. “We are married. We have been married probably since two thousand and eleven!”

Yunho blinks. “Um,” he says.

“At most,” Changmin continues, not looking at Yunho’s ridiculous picture of The Last Supper anymore, and instead focusing on a spot right around Yunho’s right shoulder. “We have been married since you decided to dare me to put my tongue down your throat last month!”

Yunho appears to mull that over. “Oh my God,” he says finally. “We totally are.”

For some reason Changmin wants to laugh nervously. He does not do that. Instead, he stands in the middle of Yunho’s living room, heart trying to beat out of his chest. “Yeah!” he says. “We are!”

He and Yunho just keep staring at each other, clearly having no idea what to do or say.

“Please tell me you at least realized,” says Changmin.

“I just thought what you were saying about kissing you again in a controlled environment made sense,” says Yunho, almost on top of him.

“Oh thank God,” says Changmin immediately. “I mean what--”

“Yeah, clearly I’m _nuts_ for you, Changdol, that’s ridiculous--”

“Hey, that logic got me to put your dick in my mouth--”

Yunho goes wistful. “True--”

“Also, in theory, that all made sense--if we really wanted to find out who was the better kisser--”

“We would have both kissed the same unbiased person,” Yunho finishes finally. “It’s okay, Changdol. I still love you even though you’re an idiot.”

Changmin looks at him and wants to knee him in the balls. “Hey,” he says instead. “It’s unfair that you’ve said you love me twice and I haven’t even gotten to tell you once.”

Yunho’s eyes go dark in two seconds flat. He comes closer to Changmin, hands going to Changmin’s hips, tongue licking across his own lips. “Oh?” It’s a question, and a dare, and belief in Santa Claus all wrapped up in one.

“I love you, Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin. “Now let’s go tell all our friends we totally have been dating this whole time.”

Yunho slips his hands off of Changmin’s hips and onto Changmin’s ass. His eyes are half lidded and his cock is hard up against Changmin’s. “Or we could figure out who’s better at making love, first,” he says.

Changmin puts his own hands on Yunho’s ass. He relishes in the little shiver that induces.

“All night long,” Yunho continues. “And at your place too.”

Changmin leans in so close that he and Yunho are sharing the same air. “Deal,” he says. “Just don’t cry when I win.”

Yunho kisses him, grinning. “Oh, I’ll cry,” he says, right up against Changmin’s mouth. “But not because you’re winning.”

Changmin rolls his eyes a little, paws at Yunho’s ass a little, and does his best to kiss Yunho like he means it. Like he loves him the world, because he does, apparently. Obviously. He might even, it seems, have to concede that Yunho is the better kisser in TVXQ. But perhaps Changmin’s biased. He does adore the man, after all.

\--

Later:

“So to clarify, Yunho-hyung hadn’t been making out with you and fooling around with you because he just wanted to make out with you and fool around with you, but was instead getting in your pants because for some reason he thought your stupid ‘let’s see who’s better at gay sex’ competition made perfect sense?”

“… I will tell Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim to just fire you; Suju doesn’t need that many main vocals. They’ve got plenty.”

“Wow, I take it all back, Chwang-ah, you’re not a complete idiot. Yunho-hyung is. But that’s okay, because at least you have each other--”

“Okay, bye now, Kyu, thanks for coming, please _never come back again_ \--”

“Love you too, Changmin-ah. Love you too. Like Yunho-hyung does. Even though neither of you realized for apparently for four fucking _weeks_ \--”

“Goodbye, Kyuhyun--”

“For four fucking weeks!”

A door slamming.

A set of eyes rolling.

The slick slide of lips pressing together in a kiss.

“I’m going to need a new best friend.”

“But not a new boyfriend.”

“No.”

More kissing.

“YOU’RE SO GROSS, CHANGMIN-AH!”

A chorus of voices: “Good _bye_ , Kyuhyun-ah!”

Laughter.

The end, and happily ever after.

.

.

.

_You’re in love with him,_

_and he’s in love with you,_

_and it’s like a goddamn tragedy._

_Because you look at him and see the stars;_

_and he looks at you and sees the sun._

_And you both think the other is just looking at the ground._

_(but god._

_just notice you're both looking at the sky.)_

 

\-- by [@lostcap](http://lostcap.tumblr.com/post/80840812807/youre-in-love-with-him-and-hes-in-love-with) on tumblr, line breaks and punctuation my own

end.

**Author's Note:**

> Ba-banana Ba-ba-banana-nana-- I am soooo sorry.
> 
> Comments and kudos and retweets are besttttttttt.
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/179531127480/and-its-like-a-goddamn-tragedy-just-notice) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/1056667099526057984)


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